Crossing Hearts
by chelsXXchels
Summary: When I was younger, my mother would tell me that I was talented with any marking utensil in my hand, whether it be a pencil, crayon, or paintbrush… little did she know that one day that would also include a wand. -During 5th yr, Draco/OC eventually, R&R!
1. I: Black Walls

**Okay guys, this is a new HP story and I just thought I'd let ya'll know a few things that weren't in the summary… such as: this takes place in Harry's 5****th**** year; Harry and his friends ARE major players in this story, although I don't think they actually make an appearance until the 3****rd**** or 4****th**** chapter; if everything goes according to plan, this story will continue into their 6****th**** year (I have it outlined, so let's just hope I write it!). Okay, that's about it so I'll stop rambling and let ya'll read now… oh, and don't forget to REVIEW!!! _Please?_**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own anything related to Harry Potter... no matter how much I wished I did...

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**Crossing Hearts**

**Black Walls**

The paintbrush was held firmly in my right hand, the bristles soaked in black paint. I moved my hand in an up and down motion on my wall, covering the lilac-purple that I had painted on the walls about 10 months ago. I was always painting my room, which annoyed my mother to some degree, but since I bought my own paint, she didn't really have a reason to complain.

I moved my easel out of the way so that I could continue to paint the back wall. I was always drawing or painting, it was like therapy for me. Sometimes I meddled around with writing poetry or prose, and even though most of the time it turned out decent, I much preferred making a picture instead of words. When I was younger, my mother would tell me that I was talented with any marking utensil in my hand, whether it be a pencil, crayon, or paintbrush… little did she know that one day that would also include a wand.

"Taylor, supper is ready," I heard my mother's voice followed by a gasp. "Dear," I heard her footsteps coming closer to me as I continued to paint, "you won't be in mourning for forever."

"I'm not in mourning," I replied a little harshly as the paintbrush began to run out of paint. I stabbed the brush into the dark pool of liquid that was in a bucket at my feet viciously.

"Sweetie…"

"I'll be down for supper in a minute," I cut her off. She sighed and walked out of the room. She always did this to me, talked to me like I was five and I had just lost my favorite stuffed animal. But I wasn't five, I was almost 15, and I hadn't lost a stuffed animal, I'd lost a person.

I put the paintbrush down onto a pan and walked out of the room. After washing my hands in the bathroom, I went downstairs and into the kitchen that doubled as our dining room.

"Hello pumpkin," my father said from his spot at the table. I faked a smile in return, that's all I did these days, faked smiles because I couldn't smile, not naturally anymore.

After sitting at the table, he asked me how my day was as I put a minute amount of food on my plate. "Alright," I shrugged.

He studied me in silence for a moment before speaking. "Sweetie," I rolled my eyes, "I realize you miss her, and its okay to miss her, but maybe you should move on." He spoke tenderly.

"I have moved on," I said without looking up.

"Taylor, dear," my mom spoke this time, "I have a friend, her name is Sylvia Rycroft, she's really sweet and she works with children who have experienced something traumatic. Anyway, we were talking and I really think you should visit with her sometime." She finished with the same soft voice she had begun in, but I wasn't buying it.

Anger bubbled up in me. "A shrink?! You want me to talk to a _shrink_?" I dropped my fork looked up at her.

"Baby," she reached across the table and put her hand over mine, "I think it would be really good for you." I jerked my hand away from hers quickly. This was disgusting, my _own_ parents!

I stood from the table. "I'm fine," I said slowly, "_fine_," I repeated. My mother pursed her lips. "I'm honestly fine," and at the same moment that my mouth had formed the word 'fine', we all heard a knock. Not so much a knock like on a door, but more of a peck, like on a window.

I looked up at the window above the sink. I brown owl was sitting there with a piece of paper attached to its leg. An owl hadn't been to my house in four years… what was it doing now?

"Hurry up!" my father yelled, "Do something before the neighbors see!" My muggle father was always afraid of what the neighbors would think, everything from the color of the front door to a new bush to an owl at our kitchen window.

My mother got up and let the owl in as it flew to the table and landed in the middle of it, causing my father to scowl. "Well," he said staring at it with an agitated look on his face, "see what it wants!"

My mom walked over to it but the animal shrunk away. "It must be for you," she looked at me. I approached the owl carefully and untied the letter from its leg and opened it.

The letter was marked with the same sweeping 'H' as one of them had four years ago. I scanned it and then read it once more for clarification.

_Dear Taylor Randall,_

_We are profoundly sorry for your recent loss, but since your only teacher of magic has tragically passed, you are once again invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this fall. We have kept track of your magical progress and you will be properly placed as a 5th year student. We were pleased to find that your knowledge of magic is above average for your age, undoubtedly due to excellent teaching. Please respond with the owl provided within the week._

_Thank you,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

I set the paper down on the table. _Magic?_ I hadn't even thought of how I would continue my magical education with her gone. Could I possibly bear to practice without her?

"Well?" my mother's voice penetrated my thoughts. I looked up to see her reaching for the letter.

"They re-invited me to that school," I said emotionless and then turned around and went back to my room. I could hear my dad asking 'Which one?' behind me, but I didn't stop to answer him.

***

A couple of hours later, I studied my newly painted black walls. The phone began to ring as I was checking for missed spots. Instead of jumping to answer the line in my room like I used to, I let it ring. There was a click then, "Taylor, its Lauren!" my father yelled.

I didn't reply, I knew he'd tell her I was in the shower or something. Sure, Lauren was my best friend, along with Ashley and Deacon, but they just didn't get it. I could tell they were worried about me, and that was undoubtedly why Lauren was probably calling me, but they always tried to talk about normal things like what our school schedules would be and gossip and boys, as if life would ever be normal for me again.

Not one of them could understand why I was taking it so hard. I told them most things, but they didn't know everything, she had. Only her and my parents knew that I was a witch, and she was the only one I could talk to about it, the only one I trusted enough to tell _everything_. I could only talk to her and she was gone.

I sat on my bed thinking about facing Lauren tomorrow. I'd been acting as though I was getting better recently in front of her and my other two friends, but I'm not sure if they were actually buying it.

I wished fiercely that I didn't have to face them and my parents constantly with their constant questions of concern. I wished I didn't have to face my house, my small town with the cemetery I had to pass daily to get anywhere in this town, and all the memories that came with facing each of these things.

That's when it hit me. I wanted, _needed_ to get away… I stopped examining my wall and walked downstairs to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of writing a letter.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," I stated plainly. My mother turned around to face me with a perplexed look on her face. "_Come again_," she said again as I heard my dad coming from the living room.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," I repeated. My mother's face looked shocked.

"Honey," she stood up, "you do realize that Hogwarts is a boarding school, a _magical_ boarding school?"

I bit my lower lip realizing for the first time that they actually might not let me go. "I think I want to get away for a bit," I nodded.

"You don't have to leave the country," I turned to see my father standing in the doorway, I hadn't even realized he'd come in, "we can go on vacation or something."

My mother mumbled in agreement but I shook my head. "No," I said firmly, "I want to go."

Sighing, my mom placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sweetie, just because you're upset doesn't mean you should run off to Europe," she spoke softly.

I heaved and noticed the letter she had been writing was next to the brown owl, still perched on the table. "I'm going," I repeated, now slightly agitated, "so you can throw away that rejection letter you're writing."

My mother dropped her hand and gaped at me in shock and my father went on to yell at me that I was not going.

I turned to him. This is the man that donated the sperm to create me, but I wasn't anything like him. He was short and squat, stubborn, close-minded, and extremely short-tempered. He was not very understanding where-as I was about as understanding as a person could get. This man who was my father was easily embarrassed and cared about his appearance and other's opinions of himself very highly. Mostly, he was a muggle.

I let my face fall and said something I hadn't said in a long time, "Please. Please let me go. I NEED to go, I NEED to get away. Please." I watched him as he considered it for a moment… He HAD to let me go.

After only a few seconds, but seemed like a lifetime, he said, "We'll discuss it tomorrow." By the tone of his voice I couldn't really tell which way he was leaning, but the fact that he was even going to _think_ about it was amazing to me.

I turned to return to my room as my mother said 'John' very sternly. I'm pretty sure she scolded him for getting my hopes up, but with my door closed, I couldn't hear what she said. My stomach growled a little since I'd skipped supper, but I didn't want to go back downstairs and risk entering some battlefield. Instead I moved my furniture from the middle of my room back to their original positions. Afterwards, I sat down on my bed and yawned. I looked at my clock that read 9:52. It was early, but I was exhausted – I hadn't been sleeping well lately.

Still hungry, I decided that I could just wait until morning and changed into PJs and went to sleep.


	2. II: Belongs

**Okay, here's chapter two. I hope ya'll like it as much as chapter one! Anyway, I realize that I'm spending a lot of time with Taylor's family before she goes to Hogwarts, but the story won't always be this slow paced. Also, sorry this one is so short, I couldn't find a better stopping point to make it longer. Remember, R&R!**

**THANK YOU to: **_**CrimzonBlood **_**and **_**rainbowstarz **_**for reviewing; **_**rainbowstarz **_**for favoriting the story; and **_**Kermita **_**and **_**rainbowstarz**_** for putting the story on alert. Also, thanks to everyone who checked the story out, it had 20 hits! These all mean a ton to me! Thanks again!**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own anything related to Harry Potter :(

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**Belongs**

The next morning when I awoke, it was hard for me to register that it was morning because of my dark walls.

Sitting up in my bed and looking around at the black I realized that I would no longer have those few seconds each morning right after I woke up and forgot she was gone. The black walls were an immediate reminder.

I wondered if this was a good or bad thing. On one hand, I wouldn't have that crushing realization that ripped my world in two each morning after a few seconds of peace. On the other hand, I wouldn't get those seconds where I actually looked forward to the upcoming day because she was in it. Even though it was false hope, I would miss those moments.

I stood up as my stomach growled. Without changing or brushing my teeth, I went downstairs to eat breakfast. I was pushing my hair back with my hand when I noticed a brown owl sitting on our white counter top. My mother was laying a pancake in front of it and I remembered about Hogwarts.

I stared at the owl, wondering if my parents had made a decision, but was too afraid to ask.

"Good morning sweetie," my mother's sugary voice broke into my thoughts. I nodded 'good morning' back to her and returned my gaze to the owl, which was now picking at the pancake with its beak.

My mother must have noticed that I was looking at the owl because she began asking me about how my night was. "Fine," I said, not breaking my stare. By looking at it, I was hoping she would say something about the school, but she didn't, she just mumbled about how that was good and began setting the table.

Giving up on this tactic, I sat down at the table and began buttering my pancakes. My father came in shortly and sat down at the table, followed by my mom. After a few bites, I decided to bring it up.

"So…" I began a little nervously, "What about Hogwarts?" I immediately put another bite of pancake into my mouth.

My dad continued to chew his food as if I hadn't said anything at all. After swallowing another bite, he finally said, "What about it?"

This frustrated me immensely. He knew exactly what I was talking about! Instead of yelling, however, I decided my chances would be better if I stayed calm. "Well, about me attending this year," I spoke slowly.

I looked over at my mother who kept eating without expression on her face. _Okay,_ I thought, _so this is a conversation with _him_._ I looked back over at my dad just as he said, "Oh, yes," I waited for him to say more. "I'm sorry, pumpkin, but I think it really would be better if you stayed here with your family and friends."

I shut my eyes. No! I screamed inwardly. I opened my eyes to see both of my parents staring at me; apparently I had screamed it out loud too. My brain ran wild, how could I get them to let me go? "Its them I want to get away from," I said, not sure if this was going to make sense. "Lately it hasn't been good between us and I think the only way to keep them as friends is to take a break from them," I lied. I knew my parents adored my friends, so I hoped the prospect of losing would work.

My mother's face turned sympathetic. "Honey, you didn't tell us," she reached across the table and rested her hand on mine.

"So your going to let me go?" I asked hopefully.

My father shook his head, "How about you just steer clear of them for awhile?"

I felt hopeless; they were never going to let me go. "It's not just them," I added, thinking quickly, "its you too… both of you. I love you but I think I need a break."

I almost felt ashamed when I saw my mother's face, but I didn't when I realized what I'd said was mostly true. "I love you both, but its just all too much for me right now," I consciously spoke the truth.

My father looked absolutely flabbergasted. For a long time it was silent and then he said, "We can send you to your aunt's place for a few weeks before school begins -"

"- You can go," my mother cut him off.

I was as shocked as my father's face looked. When I turned to look at her, she looked defeated, as if she had just given up a battle, but I couldn't possibly imagine what battle that would be.

"Wenda -" my father began to argue but again she cut him off.

"It's where she belongs, John. She's talented and she deserves to sharpen that talent… it's where she belongs," she said the last part as if she were not only trying to convince my father, but herself as well.

"Mom," I said slowly, "thanks." She held up a hand to excuse herself from the table and promptly left the room. Wordlessly, my father followed her.


	3. III: First Times

**Okay, here's chapter three! I really hope ya'll enjoy it and guess what? In the next chapter, we'll be seeing some more familiar characters! I don't actually know if that's exciting for ya'll, but I just decided to let you all know anyway. Okay, I'm going to stop my pointless ramble now and let ya'll read. Remember, R&R!**

**Also, thank you so much to _rainbowstarz_ for the review! Honestly guys, when I go to my inbox and see the words "Review for story _insert story title here_", it seriously MAKES MY DAY! And constructive criticism is also welcome.**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own anything related to Harry Potter… but oh, how I wish I did…

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**First Times**

Four weeks had passed since my mother had given her permission for me to attend Hogwarts and I'd sent off a letter response with the brown owl accepting their invitation. They had promptly replied with a list of supplies and informed me that I would be flying to London and a then a professor from the school named Rubeus Hagrid would pick me up from the airport and accompany on my trip to get supplies. The letter also told me that the school would be paying for my stay at the Leaky Cauldron the night before the beginning of term. That next morning, the same professor would take me to King's Cross so that I could board the Hogwarts Express.

I packed the last minute items such as my toothbrush, retainer, and deodorant into my large trunk and proceeded to somehow get it down the stairs. Wordlessly, my father put it into the car and along with my mother, we all piled in to the van. It was a quiet drive – my dad was not happy in the least that I was going and my mother just seemed content about it all, although she didn't say much as to avoid my father's wrath.

We reached the airport and after getting my ticket, checking the oversized trunk, and going through security, we found my terminal. I hugged my father and he left and went outside to wait in the car. My mother, however, stayed with me until they called for my flight to begin boarding.

I turned to hug my mom and saw tears in her eyes. "Mom…" I began, but I had no clue what to say to her.

She pulled me into a hug, "You grandmother would be so proud… I'm so proud of you," she said as she began to cry. I pulled back a little but kept my arms around her. "I love you," my mom added.

"I love you, too," I replied as my eyes got watery. I found myself not wanting to let go of her; I didn't realize it would be this hard.

"You better get going," she said, releasing her arms from around me and wiping tears from her cheek, "and you behave there."

"I will," I said, tears starting to roll down my face. I turned and began to walk towards the woman taking tickets. When I turned around tears were already streaming down my face. I waved goodbye to my mother and for the first time realized how she was always there for me, how she was always looking out for me. For the first time, I realized how much I actually needed her.

~*~

My first plane ride was not fun at all, not to mention that it was extremely long and bumpy and I got stuck next to some old geezer who sneezed on me… twice. After locating my luggage, I had no clue how to find Professor Rubeus Hagrid. How was I supposed to tell the difference between him and the hundreds of other people here?

I began scanning the crowd when I heard a voice. "Taylor Randall," came from behind, "where are yeh?" I turned around a saw a large and extremely tall man calling my name. They didn't mention that he was a giant.

I gulped and realized people were staring at him. "Professor Hagrid?" I asked nervously.

"Ay, there yeh are, bin looking for yeh for ages," he said as he took my trunk from me, "come on."

The second we walked outside I became nostalgic for home and its hot weather, because London was fairly cooler. The landscape was also much different, as well as the way people dressed.

As we walked from the airport, I wondered how he would fit into a car, but after passing several, I realized we weren't going to stop at a car. Instead, we kept walking. I asked him about Hogwarts and he jumped into a long speech - one that was almost impossible to understand because of his accent - about how great the school was. He told me about the classes, the professors, the students and more. To my surprise, he was very nice; I had thought he would be mean or stern.

"So, yeh're from America?" he asked after his speech.

I nodded, "Texas."

He took this in with a look of surprise. "Yeh must be mighty talented, Hogwarts usually only accepts English students," he informed me. The shocked me, I actually _wasn't_ that great.

The rest of the walk was mostly silent but occasionally filled with small banter. We entered Diagon Alley and first went to the Leaky Cauldron, which was a pub/hotel, and got me a room. Then we turned my American muggle money into wizarding money and began shopping for my supplies.

"Alright," Hagrid pulled out the list of supplies, "it says yeh need three sets of plain, black work robes, one plain pointed hat, one winter cloak with black silver fastenings, all with name tags. _Standard Book of Spells_ by Miranda Goshawk, _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard, _Intermediate Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage, _Muggles Who Notice_…" He continued the list but most of it was a blur to me. Instead, I was fascinated by my surroundings. Children were running about the narrow street that was lined with magical-looking stores.

"Wow," I said under my breath.

"Yeh, these lists can get pretty long," Hagrid said.

I looked up at him, confused; I started to say 'huh?' but then realized he thought I was in awe of the list. "Uh, yeah," I said looking back at the street.

"So," he said, "we can start off with robes and then get yer books." Hagrid began walking down the street and I tried to keep pace with him, but this was nearly impossible. "Alright, I'll just wait outside for yeh," he said as he came to a stop in front of a shop that said Madam Malkins.

I went inside and got measured for my robes, Afterwards, Hagrid accompanied me while I purchased the rest of my school things and then he escorted me back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well," he said, "I'll come get yeh in the morning."

I smiled up at him. "Thanks, Professor, it was really nice meeting you," I told him honestly.

"Yeh, too," he said, returning the smile, "G'night."

~*~

I woke up the next morning and was momentarily shocked by my surroundings. By now I had gotten used to my black walls, so the dark gray walls were not out of the ordinary, but the old, run-down, antique-looking furniture was. I stood as a large yawn escaped me. In my head I tried to calculate how many hours I had lost coming from Texas to London… I knew the time difference was seven hours, but I wasn't sure how to count the length of the flight into that.

I pulled the top of my trunk open and moved all of the new books I had thrown on the top last night. I found where I put my clothes and pulled out a pair of blue jean shorts, my Sketchers and an Aaron Watson concert t-shirt and laid them on the bed. _Would I look too out of place?_ Probably. From what I've read, English people are more conservative than Americans, but that also might just be a load of bull. I reached back into the trunk and pulled out a pair of long blue jeans, those would probably blend better either way. I threw the shorts back into the trunk, changed, and then put my PJs into the trunk.

Just as I was about to start pulling the trunk out of the room, I heard a knock on the door. Professor Hagrid must be here to get me. I gulped and got nervous about starting a new school for the first time.


	4. IV: Speech Skills

**Here's chapter four! I hope you all enjoy it! Oh, and I want to say a HUGE thanks to **_**rainbowstarz**_** for being such an awesome fan of the story and always reviewing, it means a ton to me! Don't forget, R&R is greatly appreciated :).**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, I will never own Harry Potter… and it is quite depressing.

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**Speech Skills**

A _WALL?! _Seriously… I just ran through a _wall? _And I wasn't dead… or _flat?_ I quickly checked to make sure all of my body parts were present: two arms, ten fingers, two legs, nose, ears…

A loud blow interrupted my inventory. I looked up and realized how many people were crowded into the space behind the wall, _Platform 9 ¾. _There had to be two hundred, maybe three hundred people, all ushering towards the giant red train… the Hogwarts Express.

My stomach dropped suddenly, I was getting nervous again. It wouldn't have been so bad if Professor Hagrid had stayed with me, but he told me how to get through the platform and then had to leave.

I cautiously began to push the cart that Hagrid had brought me with all of my stuff on it forwards. Glancing around, I saw mothers kissing and hugging their children goodbye; some of them were teary-eyed. I thought of my mother and how her big brown eyes had been overflowing with tears just a day ago. Desperately I wanted her here with me now. It had only been a little over 24-hours since our departure, but I missed her already.

"Sorry," I murmured to a boy as I bumped into him but he didn't even seem to notice. Everyone was practically bumping into everyone as they all tried to reach one destination. "Sorry," I mumbled a few more times as I continued to bump people, but like the first, none of them even seemed to notice that they had been touched.

Finally I reached the large train. I stepped into and then attempted to pull my cart up the small step after me with great effort. To be quite honest, I was one of the weakest people I knew. Unlike my friend, Lauren, I didn't play sports, so I wasn't in athletics. And unlike a couple of my other friends, I didn't enjoy weight lifting as a past time.

I was just about to get off the train and attempt to push the cart up when I heard a voice. "Would you like some help?" the voice sounded amused, as if he'd been suppressing laughter.

I turned around and saw a tall, blonde boy looking at me with an entertained look on his face… he was definitely finding my situation humorous. "Yea, I would really like that," I said timidly. Stepping aside to let him pull in the cart, I looked at him more closely. His features were slightly pointed and his eyes were gray, but he wasn't ugly. I personally thought he was rather cute.

The blonde boy took the cart with both hands and with a simple jerk, the cart came into the train. _That's embarrassing…_ "Thanks," I said, feeling stupid.

The boy smiled - well actually, it was more of a smirk, but either way it was cute – at me. "It's no problem, these carts can get pretty heavy," he told me as his gray eyes studied me.

I grabbed the cart. "Yea, they can," I agreed as I just stood there. Raking my brain, I tried to think of something to say – hopefully something flirty – but at this point, _anything_ would be great.

The boy opened his mouth to say something to me but was cut off by someone hollering. "Draco," he turned around, "we're sitting over here!" _His name is Draco?_ I peered around him to see who was calling him, mostly because it sounded like a girl's voice, and saw a short, dark-headed girl smiling at him. So he has a girlfriend… just my luck.

"Well, I better get going," he turned back to me, "I'll see you around."

"Okay," I said so quietly as he turned around that he probably didn't even hear me. As he walked away I could have practically hit myself. I had never been much of a great flirt, but I was barely even friendly!

"Ahem," someone fake coughed behind me. I turned to realize that I was blocking the entrance to the train. _Terrific_, I thought. I'm turning out to be a bigger spaz here than I ever thought possible.

I walked down the hallway, unsure of where to sit. I reached the end and decided to double-back and find a compartment. As I glanced in them the second time, they were a lot fuller and I regretted not choosing one the first time around. I passed one that had a solitary boy in it and decided that it might be my best bet.

"May I join you?" I asked as I slid open the door. The dark headed boy nodded as he looked at me in an odd way. I grabbed my trunk and attempted to lift it above my head into the storage rack, but found this as impossible as getting the cart onto the train.

"Uh, here," the trunk was lifted from my hands and into the rack. At the rate I was going, I was going to have to write thank you notes to all of my helpers.

"Thanks," I said as the boy sat back down. I sat down across from him and looked at him. He was almost the exact opposite of the blonde boy. He had dark hair and wore circular glasses that had piercing green eyes behind them. This boy was still tall, but shorter than the last. "Hi," I decided to speak, "I'm Taylor, Taylor Randall." I stuck out my hand.

He looked at my hand for a moment. "Harry Potter," he finally said as he shook my hand. After the handshake, I set my hands in my lap and awkwardly looked around. I tried to act as though I didn't notice, but this Harry Potter was staring at me. "So," he spoke, "I suppose you wanted to sit in a compartment with the crazy Harry Potter so you could go tell your friends how odd I am, right?" He spoke maliciously.

I looked at him dumb-stuck. What kind of wacko did I sit with? "I… I d-don't even know you," I stuttered.

He stared at me more intensely. After a moment, he relaxed. "You really don't know who I am?" he asked incredulously.

"No," I said, "I'm new, so however popular you think you are at this school isn't going to make me know you." I hoped this would deflate his ego some, but if he was anything like some of the big-headed Americans I'd come across before, it wouldn't even leave a bruise.

Harry looked as if I had struck him. "Are you from America?" he asked.

What an idiot, I thought, his ego is so big that there's no room for a brain. "Yea, Texas," I answered.

He continued to look at me. "And you really don't know who I am?" he asked again.

"No," I said again, "I don't know who you are, how famous you must be or what you did to get so well-known!" This boy was starting to agitate me somewhat. How cocky could a person get?

"I – uh, sorry," he said, "I'm just not used to people not knowing who I am and gawking over me." This time when he spoke, he sounded small and apologetic and I felt bad for blowing up at him.

I bit my lip; this was getting awkward. "So, why _do_ people know you?" I asked curiously.

Harry stared at me with his beautiful green eyes and I got the feeling that I must be the first person to ever ask this question. "It's a long story," he said dismissively as he looked down into his lap.

I gnawed on my lip more. "Well," I began, "I hear it's a long ride."

**~*~**

Never - I repeat, _never_ - in my life have I _ever_ met someone with a more interesting, or tragic, story than Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

I could tell it was hard for him to tell me, but I couldn't tell him to stop. I was intrigued by it, as well as vaguely familiar. Somewhere in my subconscious, I must have been remembering a past conversation between my grandmother, an English witch, and my mother, a squib, about this very subject.

When Harry was finished telling me, I was speechless. "I – I'm so sorry," was all I could think of, and I'm sure that sounded lame. What do you say to a person who lost his parents as a baby and was then lied to for _eleven_ years and was now being hunted by an evil dark wizard and nobody believed him? Hell, should _I_ even be believing him?

Harry attempted a smile and then looked out the window. For a few moments, there was an awkward silence and I wished desperately that I could say something to make it go away, but once again, my fabulous speech skills failed me. "So," he spoke again, "you said you were new, and you certainly aren't eleven."

I smiled; I definitely wasn't eleven. "My grandma was teaching me magic, but she," my voice faded off. It had been almost six months but I still couldn't say it: _died_. I couldn't say it because I didn't want to believe it.

"Sorry," Harry said quietly.

"So I accepted the invitation to Hogwarts when it came this year," I continued, "So, here I am."

"I didn't know Hogwarts invited students from overseas," Harry said observantly.

"You are the second person to say that," I said, remembering Professor Hagrid saying something similar. I couldn't understand why I would have been accepted to Hogwarts if they didn't accept foreign students. When I was eleven I had gotten an invitation for Hogwarts, but my mother wouldn't send me away and we worked out the home-school thing. Then this year, they sent another invitation. "My grandmother was English," I stated.

Harry nodded, "Maybe she went to Hogwarts or something." I nodded and decided to just accept this idea since that was something else I would never get the chance to ask. Why had I never thought to ask her where she had learned magic?

"They aren't going to sort you with the first-years, are they?" Harry asked quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"I'm not sure," I said, "Professor Hagrid told me that I didn't have to ride over on the boats with them if I didn't want to, but I would need to meet up with them in the castle."

Harry's lips turned upward into a smile and a laugh escaped him.

"What's so funny?" I asked defensively.

"Well I was just thinking," he managed to say between laughs, "you're not short, and you'll be standing with all those tiny eleven year olds… you're really going to stick out."

I thought of this and was instantly horrified. "Why would you tell me that?" I practically screeched. This only made him laugh harder. I hit my head against the back of the seat and regretted it immediately, it sort of hurt.

"It won't be that bad," Harry was finally calming down from his laughing fit, "How old are you, anyway?"

"I just turned 15," I said proudly. If I were still in America, I'd be preparing for my first day of high school.

"Well, happy late birthday," he told me and I nodded thanks, "We're the same year." Just as things were starting to get silent, Harry started to giggle again. "Sorry, it just seems so funny."

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest as he began to laugh at my upcoming situation once more. I guess it was sort of funny, but I wasn't about to laugh at it.

"Eh, what's so funny?" a voice said as the compartment door slid open. A tall, lanky boy with red hair and freckles walked in followed by a shorter girl with curly brown hair. The boy noticed me and gave me an odd look.

"Ron, this is Taylor, this is her first year at Hogwarts, but she's our year. Taylor, this is Ron and Hermione," he motioned to each of them as he said their names.

Ron sat down next to Harry and Hermione sat next to me. "Hello," she said and shook my hand, "are you excited about Hogwarts?"

"More nervous, I guess," I said, "especially since Harry is making me paranoid." I gave Harry a glare.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, sorting is easy and it doesn't really matter which house you're in," she said reassuringly.

"Yea…" I said, "but he's telling me how funny I'll look standing next to short eleven-year-olds." I glared at Harry as he laughed again.

"Don't listen to him," Hermione said, "he's just being a prat." She said this with a small grin so Harry knew not to take her seriously. I laughed a little at her comment.

After a moment, Ron burst into a rant about who the Slytherin Prefect was - someone named Malfoy. Maybe, I thought, this whole 'new school' thing wouldn't be so bad.


	5. V: Sorting More Than People

**Hey guys! I'm sorry for the longer delay in updating than usual, I've been extremely busy and I'm sure we all know how that feels! Anyway, I have a few things that I need to let you all know… **

**First off, I'm not sure when the next update will be. Tomorrow I get to go to Six Flags and Metro Station will be there as part of the Summer Concert Series, but me and my friend aren't sure if the tickets we have our good for the concert, but I can still hear them if we can't get in and I'm SUPER excited lol, and Thursday I've basically got a full schedule. It probably doesn't help that I haven't written chapter six either… But I am going to TRY and update at least twice before Saturday because I leave that day to visit my sister for a week and once I'm there I won't be able to update (but hopefully I'll get a few chapters written). So I'm only going to promise one more chapter before I leave (even if it means staying up until 3 in the morning one day just to write chapter six), but if ya'll review a bunch and tell me ya'll want one more, maybe I'll get inspired to write chapter seven really quick.**

**Also, I was going to give shout-outs to everyone who has added this story to their Alerts and Favorites, but me being the spaz I am, deleted the emails before writing down all of your names :(. So, I am so terribly sorry for that but THANK YOU to all of you who have done so, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! If you would like, you could leave a review and let me know that you have added this story to your Alerts and/or Favorites (as well as let me know what you think of the new chapter) and I'll be sure to give you a shout-out in the next chapter.**

**I do want to give one special shout-out to **_**rainbowstarz**_** who has reviewed EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER and has lent some great ideas to the story. So, thank you **_**rainbowstarz**_** for being such a dedicated fan! Others have added me to their Alerts and Favorites, but none of them review and let me know their opinion like you do; so thanks once again!**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter or anything related to J.K. Rowling's wonderfully magical world.

**And now I will finish my EXTREMELY long Author's Note and let you all read the chapter, hope ya'll like it and please let me know what you think!**

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**Sorting More Than People**

I walked over to the group of eleven-year-olds and gulped nervously. Turning around, I waved at Harry and his two friends and he gave a thumbs-up back. I liked Harry, not _like-liked_ him – he wasn't really my type – but I liked him as a person, as a friend.

I turned around and watched the rest of the returning Hogwarts students enter the Great Hall. As the crowd began to thin, a tall, slender woman in green robes introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. She spoke briefly about some rules and expectations of first-years and then informed us that we would now be sorted.

I followed the group of small children and entered the Great Hall. In my mind, I could hear the snickering and pointing, but when I looked around, no one was laughing at me. Most were looking at me with a confused look, but some weren't even watching the first-years enter the hall at all.

We stopped at the front of the hall and one by one, Professor McGonagall called the names of first year students. "Helena Astaire," "Patrick Caldwell," the names went on and students were sorted and finally "Taylor Randall" was called.

Nervously, I began to walk towards the stool that was in the front of the hall. I sat down and looked out at the crowd. At the Ravenclaw table, unfamiliar faces were staring at me with intense interest. At the Hufflepuff table it was the same, although I did recognize a dark-headed boy as someone I had run into on the platform. The Gryffindor table was also staring at me, and I recognized three of them, one of which was smiling at me. I gave a small smile back to Harry and then looked at the Slytherin table. They were all looking at me, also, and I saw the blonde boy from the train sitting near the short-haired girl I presumed was his girlfriend. He was smirking at me.

The raggedy, old hat was placed on my head and I began to fidget nervously with the hem of my sleeve. The hat sat silent for a moment and then spoke… not out loud, but _in my head_.

_Hm_, the hat said, _I can tell that you have an intense loyalty, especially to your friends, but you also have a certain ambition in you… you try immensely to get what you want, but then you are also very courageous. This splits you between three houses…_The hat paused for a moment as if contemplating which house I should be in. _It takes courage to be loyal, however, in times of need, and to also be ambitious when others are putting you down,_ the hat added. I gulped nervously and wished for a house where I would fit in, or at least have some friends. After another moment, the hat spoke out loud, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table roared loudly as the hat was removed from my head. I walked past the few remaining first-years and towards the cheering table. There was a spot next to Ron and I hoped he wouldn't mind me sitting next to him as I sat on the bench.

"Congrats," Ron said as he patted me on the back. I thanked him and everyone else who said thanks.

The table quieted as the next first-year was called to get sorted. I watched the blonde girl sit down and immediately get Slytherin. I looked across at the Slytherin table as they all cheered for her. As my eyes moved down the table, I soon found the blonde head of the boy. As if he could feel me looking at him, he looked up at me. Instead of smirking like he had earlier, he just looked at me as if he was confused.

We continued to look at each other until Harry spoke. "Taylor," I looked away from the boy and at Harry, "what are you looking at?" Harry turned around and looked at the Slytherin table. When he turned back to me, he had a scowl on his face, "Malfoy."

"Um," I said, "who?"

"Draco Malfoy is only like the worst git to ever walk the earth," Ron said. I remembered Ron and Harry talking about a Malfoy pretty badly on the train. But surely Malfoy couldn't be the same boy who helped me, could he?

Harry laughed a little at Ron's comment as I remembered the blonde boy helping me on the train. Then I remembered his "girlfriend" calling him to her compartment… calling him "Draco". How many "Draco's" could there possibly be? It had to be him.

"Why is he so horrible?" I asked, suddenly curious. He hadn't seemed bad to me.

Harry opened his mouth to begin explaining when a loud, booming voice suddenly filled the hall. I looked to the front and saw a tall man with a long white beard standing. I recognized him from a picture Professor Hagrid had shown me. He was the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore went on to give a speech and even mentioned that the Dark Lord has returned, this, of course, had to be who Harry was telling me about. Afterwards, there was a feast and then everyone stood to go to the Common Rooms. "Do you have to go with the first-years?" Harry asked me as I rose up from the bench.

"No," I told him, "Professor Hagrid said that I don't need to take the tour with them. He said I could probably figure it out on my own since I was older or get someone to show me around." I was personally overjoyed that I didn't have to join them once again, not only was it embarrassing, but boring. What were the chances that I was going to actually talk and make friends with an eleven-year old?

Harry nodded and I followed him out of the Great Hall, up winding stairs and eventually into the Gryffindor Common Room that was hidden behind a portrait of a fat lady.

"There's a table over there," Hermione said and she led the way through the crowd. As I walked farther into the crowd, I began to realize that everyone seemed to be staring at someone behind me – Harry.

After several intense glares in his direction, Harry stopped and turned towards to boys who were next to him. "Dean, Seamus," he spoke, "good holiday?"

I turned around just as one of the boys replied. "Some better than others," the darker boy spoke, "Seamus's especially." So the one talking was Dean.

The other boy, Seamus apparently, glared at Harry maliciously. "My mum wasn't going to let me come back," Harry just looked at him, "because of _you_."

Harry looked taken aback. "What?" he sounded surprised and I couldn't imagine what Harry could have done to make a mother not want her child to go to the same school as him.

I looked back at the other boy. "You know, Harry, the prophet has been saying stuff," he continued, "and it isn't good."

"And you believe it?" Harry asked, slightly raising his voice.

"Well, it's some pretty convincing stuff," Seamus said, taking a step forward. Something told me that this wasn't going to end well. I looked over at Hermione and her expression told me that she was thinking the same thing.

"I'm beginning to think your stupid mum was right, maybe you shouldn't have come back," Harry said, getting angry. I was shocked that Harry would say something like that, but then again, I didn't really know Harry that well, so maybe it was ordinary for him to do so.

"How dare you insult my mum," Seamus yelled back at Harry.

"I'll do so to anyone who believes the rubbish that the Prophet is printing!" Harry yelled as Ron stepped in between them. I looked at Hermione whose eyes had seemed to have widened.

"Do you believe the junk Potter's saying?" Seamus asked Ron accusingly. Yeah, I was definitely right in thinking that this wouldn't be good.

"As a matter of fact," Ron said confidently, "I do." By this time, Harry had stormed past them and into the boy's dormitory. Ron glanced around the room, "Does anyone else have a problem with Harry?" The room was silent. "Good…" he trailed off and then headed in the direction that Harry had come.

Everyone in the Common Room had grown quiet and seemed to be glancing at each other cautiously. I turned to Hermione. "Harry told me that people didn't believe him," I said quietly, "but I didn't know it was this bad."

"Yeah," Hermione looked over at me, but I could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, "I need to go see if he's okay." I nodded understandingly and turned to go sit down. "Taylor," I turned when Hermione said my name, "you can come."

"I don't want to intrude," I said. I was sure that they all had stuff to talk about without me.

"You won't," she assured me. She began to walk towards a staircase and I followed her. Before even taking a step, we saw Ron coming down. "How is he?" Hermione asked as he descended the last few steps. I could tell that she was concerned.

Ron shrugged. "He wants to be alone," he explained as he walked over to the table we had already tried to walk to once. Hermione and I followed and sat down at the table. "Anyone say anything after I left?" Ron asked glancing around the room.

Hermione shook her head, "No."

I sat there silently. I was having a battle inside of me. Part of me believed my first friend at a new school. I mean, who would make up a story about a dangerous dark lord returning? But another part didn't… if so many other people who have known him for years didn't believe him, why should I? "I have a question," I spoke aloud. Ron and Hermione gave me their attention. "Why do you believe Harry?"

They both looked slightly shocked at the question, but they each stayed quiet. I suddenly felt the need to explain further. "I'm just asking because I'm sort of confused. Harry's story seemed pretty solid to me, and seriously, seventeen-year-olds don't just drop dead, that boy had to die somehow… so why does nobody believe him?" I added.

Hermione spoke first, "I believe him because Harry wouldn't lie about something like this, and I think nobody believes him because of what the Prophet is saying. The only reason the Prophet is saying this stuff is because it is controlled by the Ministry and the Ministry doesn't want people panicking."

I nodded in understanding of what she said but not understanding the part about the Ministry. That was sort of stupid. I'd be the first to admit that I didn't know much about the Ministry of Magic or how it operated, my grandmother and I had probably had a total of two discussions about it, but wouldn't the place that was made to govern the wizarding world want to _protect _the wizarding world?

"If you ask me," Ron said, "they're all just a bunch of gits."

This comment made me smile; _git_ truly was a funny word that you never heard in America. I looked around the Common Room and then thought of something else. "Why don't ya'll like that Malfoy kid?" I asked.

"He's a mean, malicious, infuriating, discriminating prat," Ron said in one breath, "All he cares about is blood-status and being a prude to people who he considers his inferiors."

"Oh," I said. I couldn't believe that it was the same guy. "I think I talked to him on the train," I added, "he didn't seem bad then, he was actually nice."

Ron made a 'humph' noise. "He just didn't know you'd be in Gryffindor or your blood-status yet," he said dismissively. I took this slightly offensive, maybe he just liked me and didn't care about my blood-status… but even as I thought it, I knew it was simply not plausible. He might very well have _liked_ me, but probably not anymore.

"By blood status," I said, "you mean he only likes pure-bloods?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, "most of Slytherin is like that."

"He of all people knows that You-Know-Who is back," Ron said, as if that was supposed to make me understand anything. "His dad is like one of the head Death Eaters or something, he was there when Cedric died," Ron spoke gravely.

"Oh," I said again. I didn't say anything else, I just let it all sink in. After a few minutes of just sitting there, Hermione announced that she was going to go to bed and I decided to go with her.

That night in bed, a multitude of new and confusing information swam threw my mind. Slytherin's had parents who were Death Eaters, so they knew that dark-lord-dude's plans. If the kids talked to their parents, then they would probably know the plans to some degree also. Surely Harry was worried if that Lord was going to come after him… but only if there was some way to find out for sure.


	6. VI: The Pitch

**Okay, this is a note to my readers… if I even still have any, which, I hope I do.**

**I realize that I haven't updated in literally FOREVER and I'm sure you want a reason. Well, it's more like a series of events. First, my computer broke and was down for like two months… can you believe I went that long with NO Internet??? Well, once we got it fixed, I no longer felt that nagging sensation to be on it 24/7 like I used to, so I basically only got on to check my Facebook. Then, about two weeks ago I started getting on for more than just Facebook and finally a couple of days ago it hit me: I have stories that need to be updated! So I got on yesterday and immediately began writing chapter six of this story. **

**So, I realize that all of my readers may have very well abandoned me and I understand that no one may ever read these words that I have written, and I accept that. There is no one to blame in this but myself and I apologize sincerely. If my readers are still out there and they decide to read this chapter and the ones that are coming up soon, I thank you so much!!! Especially those who reviewed and favorited and put it on story alert!**

**Thank you once more.**

Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.

**The Pitch**

The first few days at my new school passed by and I found myself liking Hogwarts and my new friends. However, there were some weird things going on. The new DADA professor was "ministry appointed", which apparently had never happened before, and I personally thought she was nuts. She doesn't even let us use magic in her class; it's all bookwork! On our first day, she instigated an argument with Harry about that Dark Lord and then gave him detention in which he wrote lines with his own blood!

Gryffindor Quidditch team try-outs were today, so that is why Hermione and I were currently sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch watching people hitting balls and flying around on brooms.

"Did you finish your potions essay?" Hermione looked up at me from her half-finished paper.

"Yea, I wrote it yesterday," I replied, but left out that I had finished it rather quickly.

If there was one thing I had learned about Hermione the past few days, it was that she liked to be the best at schoolwork. I wasn't better than her – not by a long shot – but potion was my best subject and I was really good at it. My grandma always taught me more about it than other subjects because potions was her thing and I had taken an intense interest in it.

"Oh," Hermione said back and then returned to writing her essay. Unlike Hermione, I hadn't brought any of my homework out to the pitch with me because I actually wanted to watch the try-outs for some reason.

I had opted not to take flying lessons with the first-years. I had never learned to fly and I wasn't sure if I wanted to. I had a slight fear of heights and I was known to get the occasional motion sickness, so I wasn't sure how well that would work out.

I found the try-outs to be pretty interesting probably since I had never seen anything like it before. People zoomed around with such ease and agility on their brooms it was like magic… well, technically, it was magic. Eventually, the team was picked and everyone began to get his or her things together and leave. Hermione and I got up from our seats and met the new Gryffindor Quidditch team coming off of the pitch.

"Congratulations!" we both said to Ron, who had just made the Quidditch team for the first year apparently.

"Thanks," he replied proudly. His face was beat red, but not from embarrassment I presumed. I fell in to step next to Harry as Hermione and Ron began discussing the fact that Ron hadn't yet started his Potions essay. Rather quickly they decided that they were going to go to the library so Hermione could help Ron.

"So," I began, "Quidditch seems… interesting."

Harry laughed. "Yea, interesting would be a good word for it."

I smiled. I found myself smiling a lot lately. Not the fake smile I had been putting on, but ever since my second day at Hogwarts, I haven't had to fake smile once. My new friends even made me laugh… and laughing felt good.

I tilted my head back and brushed my hair up into a ponytail with my hands and secured it with an elastic. "Oh," I said, finishing up my hair, "someone else pointed out to me today that I'm American."

Harry looked at me. "When will people realize that you already know your nationality?"

I shrugged. "They also said it was unusual that Hogwarts invited me to attend. You know how many people have said that? I just wish I had an answer for them."

Harry thought for a moment as he adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Well you did say your grandma was English, but you could always just ask Dumbledore. I'm sure he would tell you."

I nodded and began playing with the hem of my sleeve – it was becoming an odd habit. As we continued walking towards the castle, I saw a group of kids coming out. They walked in the opposite direction that we were coming from, but even from the backs of their heads I could tell who they were: Draco and his group of Slytherins.

Ever since I began hanging out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Draco stopped being nice to me. He wasn't being mean to me like he was to the other three, it was more like he stopped acknowledging my existence.

From the way Draco acted towards my new friends, he was very prejudiced when it came to blood status and really didn't like Harry at all. He acted as though he didn't believe Harry's story about last year, but according to Harry, Draco must know the truth. As for myself, I had decided to believe Harry. I'm not exactly sure of the reason, but for some reason I trusted Harry very easily and we were becoming close friends, well on my end at least. I found that he was easy to talk to and told him basically everything - he was the closest friend I had at Hogwarts. However, Harry had his own best friends and I didn't exactly expect him to just open up with me the way I was with him. Even so, the thoughts I had about helping him my first night at Hogwarts still ran through my mind often. Something tugged within me and I knew there had to be some way I could help.


	7. VII: Family History

**So… I'm somewhat scared to even be doing this. This story is one I've been working on. It's one I fall in love with and lose interest in and then fall back in love with and so on. Well, I finally fell back in love with it, and I'm crashing hard guys. Sad thing? I don't think I have any readers left. But, ah well. I'm writing this quite a bit for myself, but I'd love to be writing it for people as well. I know it's been **_**months**_**, but if you could all just give this story another chance and let me know that ya'll are still interested, that would be great! **

**So without further ado, I give you chapter seven of Crossing Hearts!**

Disclaimer: Sadly, Harry and his world do not belong to me.

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**Family History**

I walked by myself down the long corridor from the Great Hall. I wasn't walking to a particular place; I was just walking and thinking.

The corridors were empty, causing my footsteps to leave behind loud echoes. Everyone else was in the Great Hall eating dinner, but my mind was in too much of a twirl to eat. Another person had commented on the fact that I was American. But it wasn't that that had irked me, it was that they had said Hogwarts _didn't_ accept American students. Well, I thought, clearly they do because here I am. But they had said it with such finality… America had its own wizardry school. When I had gotten the first letter from Hogwarts four years ago, I had also gotten a letter from there. However, this year I had only gotten one letter.

Eventually I found myself outside the castle. It was beautiful right now. The sun was beginning to set causing the sky to boast shades of pink and purple and red. The reflection of the sky that was set in the lake contrasted with the ripe green color of the grass that was surrounding it. My hand itched for my sketchbook; I would love to draw this scene right here right now. If this would have been a month ago, I would have my sketchbook with me because it was my constant companion, but ever since coming to Hogwarts, I found myself carrying it with me less and less.

I put my hands on my hips and continued to admire the scene, but tried to focus on the issue at hand. Harry had said to just ask Dumbledore, but should I really disturb him for something that was probably nothing? I turned abruptly away from the poignantly colorful scene and walked back into the castle. If there was one person I had learned to trust here at Hogwarts, it was Harry.

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The office that belonged to Headmaster Dumbledore was unlike anything I'd ever seen. It was alive with all sorts of magical odysseys and moving paintings of past headmasters. When I had asked Harry where to find the office, I should have asked what to expect. I sat down in the chair that was placed across from the large desk. The headmaster stared back at her with his half-moon glasses perched on his nose.

"Did you know," he said eloquently, "that you look remarkably like your grandmother did at this age?"

This statement took me aback. I fumbled with my words for a moment and then finally, "You knew my grandmother?"

He nodded slowly but efficiently. "I knew her very well. We were once close friends but, unfortunately, as time goes by, people naturally drift apart."

I stared at him, he really knew her. I knew my grandma was from London but it never occurred to me that I might meet one of her old friends.

"Well," Dumbledore interrupted my thoughts, "I assume you came here for a reason."

"Oh," I said sharply. I had almost forgotten about that completely. "Well its just that many people have pointed out to me that Hogwarts generally doesn't accept students from overseas, so I was just -"

"You were just wondering why you got invited?" he finished my question and I nodded. "Your grandmother asked me years ago – almost 14 years ago to be exact – that your name be put on the list to attend." When he finished he stood, "If that is all-"

"But its not," this time, I cut him off. "Why would she ask you too?"

Dumbledore stared at me a moment. "You are asking me to tell you things that your mother would highly disapprove of."

My mother would disapprove of? But my mother wasn't even a witch, "Would my grandma disapprove?"

He continued to stand and stare at me for another moment, "It's a long story." When I didn't say anything, he returned to his seat. "Your grandmother," he began, "belonged to the McLaughlin family. It was a pure-blood family and she was the last member to carry on the blood-line. She was a highly-regarded witch of her time. Everyone expected such great things from her, and she did do many great things. She was one of the first witches to be accepted into a spot at the Ministry – back then it was almost all wizards – and she married a fellow pure-blood who was equally as great – your grandfather, Brendall Budrow. They were a remarkable pair. Always kind, and even though they were a pure-blood family, they didn't look down on muggle-borns. They were even activists for equality amongst wizarding families.

"Then she had a child and I believe that was maybe one of the happiest days of her life. That baby was," _my mom_, I thought, "her world. He was beautiful and she loved the child more than her own life perhaps, I do believe her true calling in life was to be a mother."

"Um, P-professor," I stuttered for a moment, "you said… _he_."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "his name was Brendall Junior, but everyone simply called him Junior."

_Brendall Junior?_ That meant my mom had a brother… but she had never mentioned a brother…

"Junior came to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor, just as his mother, and was a prefect and Head Boy. He was undoubtedly the brightest wizard his year, and not just in his house. At school, he was the only person attending from his family, but at home, he had a sister – Wenda. She was seven years younger than him and she was a squib.

"These days it is more common to see a squib working and participating in the wizarding world – not often, but more common. Back then, it just didn't happen. If you gave birth to a squib, many considered it shameful. But not Elsie. Elsie was proud of her daughter and loved her just the same as she loved her son, but it was dangerous for squibs in the wizarding world. Not physically damaging, but emotionally and mentally. Squibs are not magical, therefore they can make friends at home, but then during the school year, they have to watch all of their friends and siblings go off to school. They can see and watch all of these magical things going on around them, but they can never fully participate. Elsie feared for her daughter, she didn't want her to get hurt. So, when it came time that everyone you mother's age would be going off to school for the first time, she and your grandfather decided to leave the wizarding world for her sake. To further themselves from it, they went to America to start over for her.

"Junior was already 18 and living on his own, so he stayed behind. They couldn't really ask him to leave, after all, he had such a life here. He had a beautiful girlfriend, was very popular, and loved by the Ministry. They kept very much in touch with him, writing almost daily and sending pictures of you mother. They also wrote to me frequently, you see at that time, we were all very close friends.

"A few years passed. Junior married his girlfriend and they had a child and your mother got married to a muggle and became pregnant. For her, everything was going perfectly. However, in the wizarding world, Voldemort was beginning his first rise to power. He had already begun collecting followers and we feared that they might grow strong. Junior came to me asking what he could do to help the war effort. I told him that he could join our ranks and help fight, but he just wasn't satisfied. He wanted to do more. So, he submerged himself into Voldemort's world and became a Death Eater. He made himself trustworthy, playing the pure-blood card and became close to the Dark Lord. Junior was our spy. He told us everything he could about Voldemort's plans and it often helped us to win at battles.

"Your grandparents came back so that they too could help with the war effort. Though they were aging, it didn't stop them from being involved in the battles. Things were going good and it looked as though we were going to win, but then things turned sour. We're still not sure how, but Voldemort found out that Junior was a spy. He wasted no time in killing him, his wife, and his three-year-old son. Your grandmother was heartbroken, as was your grandfather. You were a little over a year old, and you had never even gotten to meet them.

"Just a short couple of weeks later, Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter and I assume you know what happened there. With Voldemort gone, your family was finally able to have a funeral for your lost ones. Your mother brought you here for the funerals. It was clear to me that her opinion of magic was not very high; I believe she blamed the wizarding world for her beloved brothers death.

"She only stayed long enough for the funerals and then went back to America. Your grandmother was close behind her. This is when my relationship with your grandparents was almost completely severed. You see, I let your uncle be a spy, I didn't argue or object, and Elsie thought that I should have. I couldn't blame her, her only son was dead and she needed to stick the blame somewhere. Before she left, however, she told me of a conversation between her and your mother. Your mother had told her that she wished with every being in her body that you wouldn't be a witch. She didn't want you to be a part of the world that had killed her brother. She didn't even want you to know about the world. So, you grandmother asked me to invite you to attend Hogwarts as a favor. She knew you were already a witch, she could tell, but she didn't want you attending some random school in the States, she wanted you to attend the same school that her entire family had attended. She wanted you to be educated by some of the best wizards in the world. When you turned eleven, your mother wouldn't let you go to school anywhere. She didn't want you leaving to some place where she couldn't keep an eye on you and where you might fall victim to a similar fate of her brother. Elsie worked it out with the Ministry that you would be "home-schooled" in magic by her. So when she died, I simply decided to fulfill her wishes and make sure that you wouldn't attend just any school, you would attend Hogwarts."

Professor Dumbledore never stopped looking at me throughout his entire story about my family's history. My family had a history that I didn't even know about; I had family members that I didn't know about - an uncle and a cousin. My head thumped and hurt from all of this new information. Did my father even know about all of this? Or did he choose not to know? Why didn't my mom or my grandma tell me any of this? We had roots here, they were well-known, but nobody knew who I was.

"Taylor," he interrupted my thoughts, "your family's past is a heavy one, but you shouldn't let it weigh on you."

"Nobody told me," I said meekly.

"Perhaps they thought it was for the best," he looked at me with concern in his eyes.

I looked down. That wasn't concern in his eyes, it was pity. "Th-thank you, professor," I stood up and walked out of the office without another word.


	8. VIII: It Starts with a Fire

**Okay so here's chapter eight. I know I'm updating rather quickly but when I had last stopped updating, I had written about three chapters ahead.**

**Also, HUGE thanks to **_**Cubaser**_** for the review and also to **_**KuroAkumu **_**for adding the story to their alert list. It means a lot guys (:**

**Oh, and just wanted to add that around chapter 10/11 I'll be starting some of the Taylor/Draco stuff. I just really wanted to build up the background before jumping into that. So, don't worry, it will definetely be happening, even if I am a little slow at getting there.**

Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish it wasn't true, I DO NOT own Harry or anything affiliated with him.

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**It Starts with a Fire**

I walked into the Common Room not actually aware of my movements. I had walked out of the office feeling numb and had eventually found myself telling the Fat Lady the password and entering the Common Room without actually thinking… just doing things out of habit. I continued walking until I reached a couch and sat down on it. A couple of second-years were gathered around on the floor in front of me studying for what appeared to be a Transfigurations test. If this would have been a normal day, I would have probably offered to help them, but instead, I just found their insistent chattering to be an annoyance.

"Hey, there she is!" I heard a familiar voice, but didn't look up to acknowledge it, my eyes just stared ahead unfocused.

"Shoo, move it," another voice was making the second-years move out of his way so that he could have free passage to the overstuffed armchair that was turned to face the couch.

I was aware of another voice scolding him for being rude and of the couch sinking in when someone else sat down next to me, but I didn't pay any mind to it.

"Hey," a voice that I trusted spoke softly while the other two were bickering, "are you alright? You look… not good."

I made no movement, my body felt stiff. My mouth tasted like metal and my tongue felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds, unable to form words. Maybe I was going to throw up.

"Taylor," a hand was placed on my shoulder. I moved my head slightly to the left so that I could face him. With every inch that I turned, I think my head gained another pound "Taylor," Harry said my name again, "Are you alright?"

I stared at him for what seemed like ages and he probable thought I was being rude. His green eyes were staring back at me though, and they looked concerned. I shut my eyes as hard as I could and took a deep breath, forcing myself to come back to life. I opened my eyes slowly and found that my body felt lighter. Once again, Harry said my name and asked if I was all right, this time I shrugged.

I looked over at Ron and Hermione, who by now had quit bickering and were staring at me.

"Are you sure?" Ron said, "'Cause for a moment there I thought you were going to barf."

"Ronald!"

"No," I formed the word carefully, "I'm not going to throw up."

"Then what's wrong?" Harry asked, "Did things go bad with Dumbledore?"

I turned to look at him once more. "I suppose it depends on your definition of '_bad'_."

None of them said anything; they all just stared at me, waiting for more. "Well," I said, dropping my voice so other people wouldn't hear, "he told me about my family's history." I retold the story that had been told to me just minutes ago and watched their faces trade expressions of horror, shock, sorrow, pity, and confusion.

Once I finished, they were silent for only a moment. "You mean," Hermione began, "you never knew about _any_ of that?"

I shook my head. "No, my grandma never really talked about her life much, and neither did my mom. My dad did enough of that for both of them actually."

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Don't apologize," I begged, "please." She nodded. "Actually, can we just not talk about it for awhile?" I asked.

"Of course," they all agreed. The subject changed and we eventually we were forced to go to our classes. At the end of the evening, we all once again found ourselves in the Common Room.

I was sitting on the floor in front of the couch painting my toenails while Ron sat in the armchair writing an essay, Hermione on the floor next to me doing some extracurricular reading, and Harry sprawled out across the couch finishing some his Potions homework. We were all rather silent except for Ron's occasional grunts and huffs of frustration.

"Must you really make incessant noises?" Hermione asked abruptly, looking up at Ron.

"Um," he looked at her, "it's just so hard that I get frustrated really easily."

Hermione heaved heavily, "Give it to me." Ron beamed brightly and happily handed over his quill and parchment. Now that he had nothing to do, Ron looked around at the rest of us.

"Taylor," he said my name just as I put the last stroke of polish on left big toe, "you know you could just bewitch the brush to do that for you."

I nodded but tried not to break my concentration on my second toe. While re-dipping the brush into the bottle I said, "I know, but it has taken my _years _to carefully hone this skill, so it would be such a waste to just bewitch the brush."

The couch creaked and I could tell that Harry had changed his position on the couch. "Hm," he observed, "you're actually pretty good at that. You don't even get any on your skin. Hermione, do you paint your toes?"

Hermione didn't look up from Ron's essay. "Technically, she's painting her toe_nails_. And no, I do not paint them."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "She's using a pretty color."

Hermione looked up at him with a blank face. "Just because."

"Well if you're not good at it, I'm sure Taylor could help you…"

"I _never_ said that I wasn't good at it," Hermione said sternly. I stopped painting and looked over at her. "_You_ can do your _own_ homework," she thrust the parchment back at Ron and grabbed her book. She threw it open to her page and then silently began to read again.

I bit my lip nervously and looked at Ron who was making a face at Hermione. I turned my head away and went back to painting my toenails. When I was finished with my second coat on my first foot, there was a soft peck on the window.

It was already late and we were the only four left in the Common Room. Ron got up to get the owl. As far as I knew, this was unusual; I didn't think owls came to deliver things in the Common Room.

"Hm," Hermione said, "isn't that Hermes?"

I looked at her confused. _Hermes?_ Whose owl was _Hermes_?

"Hermes is Ron's brother, Percy's, owl."

"Oh," I said, abandoning the nail polish. From what I'd heard about Percy, Ron's family and him weren't getting along because Percy worked in the Ministry. Ron walked back over and stared at the scroll.

"Open it!" Hermione said eagerly as Harry sat up on the couch. I assumed that since he didn't get along with his brother, a letter from him was unusual. I watched as Ron read the letter. It seemed that the farther down he read the more his look of confusion turned into a scowl. By the time he finished, Ron's face was twisted into a grimace. With a look of revulsion, he thrust the letter at Hermione, who leaned over to allow me and Harry to read it as well.

When I finished the letter, I found myself strongly disliking Percy even though I had never met him. If people really thought Harry was horrible, then they clearly had never spent any real time with him. And for Ron's very own brother to say those things about his best friend was just appalling. While I was in thought, I clearly had missed something because by the time I looked up, Ron had torn the letter into bits and was throwing it into the fire.

"I wonder what's going to be in the Prophet," I said referring to the letter.

Ron shrugged, "Probably something stupid and ridiculous."

"I don't know, but I'm getting tired," Hermione said, "Have either of you even gotten close to finishing yet?"

"Erm -"

"Um…"

"Just as I figured," she said, "Give them here."

I returned to finishing my second coat as the boys praised Hermione for her kindness and she scolded them for waiting until the last minute to do their homework.

Once I finished, I looked down and admired the royal blue color that coated my nails. Satisfied with myself, I looked over at Hermione and saw Harry's potions homework laying next to Ron's essay – which she was now scribbling on.

"I could look over this and we could go to bed sooner," I offered, pointing at Harry's parchment.

I was hoping that I hadn't offended her in any way; she usually got touchy when it came to school work and I was afraid that she might snap at me and insist on doing it herself. Instead though, Hermione smiled at me, "That would be great."

I took his homework and set out to correcting it. Harry hadn't done _horribly_, but it definitely wasn't passing material. As I was finishing up, Harry suddenly leapt from the couch and knelt down in front of the fireplace.

"Um, Harry?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"I just saw Sirius's head in the fire."

"Sirius?" I asked. I remembered someone telling me that Harry's godfather was named Sirius… but he had escaped from Azkaban or something.

"Sirius's hea – _Sirius!_" Hermione had begun to ask a question but ended up sounding surprised. As I looked back at the fire, I was shocked. In the middle of all the dancing flames there was a head. The man looked rugged and had long hair and – he was _in the fire_.

"I've been checking in every hour to try to get you three alone but I saw that she read that letter," he looked my way and I suddenly felt sort of uncomfortable, "so I decided to take my chances."

"Oh," Harry shrugged in my direction, "she's fine." Hermione looked over at me as Harry cleared me and gave me an odd look. I couldn't quite detect the meaning of the look, which unsettled me somewhat.

"Sirius," Hermione began, looking away from me and towards the fire, "this is dangerous, you could be caught."

"This is the only way I could think of answering Harry's letter," Sirius explained.

When he said this, I noticed that Ron and Hermione both stared at him. "You didn't say you wrote to Sirius!" Hermione accused.

Harry looked away from them and back towards the fire, "I forgot." I looked at Hermione and the look on her face showed that she clearly didn't believe him.

"Anyway," Sirius said, "we must be quick. Your scar -"

"Your scar? What about -" Ron started but he was interrupted.

"We'll tell you later," Hermione shushed him._ Well_, I thought, _at least I'm not the only one confused._

Sirius and Harry began to have a conversation about the scar. Apparently Harry's scar would hurt and they thought it was maybe whenever Voldemort was feeling a strong emotion. Then the conversation turned to Umbridge and Death Eaters, to someone named Lupin and werewolves. By the time the name Kreacher had come up, I was so beyond being confused that I had lost all hope in trying to follow them. Then the conversation turned back to Umbridge and my confusion began to fade.

"She's not letting us use magic at all!" Harry said about her classes.

"Our informants from inside the Ministry say that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat," Sirius said. At least I knew that Fudge was the Minister of Magic.

"Does he think we're forming a wizard army or something?" Harry asked incredulously.

"He does actually," Sirius said. "Well, it's actually what he thinks Dumbledore is doing. Building an army to take on the Ministry of Magic."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," Ron said.

Sirius continued, "Fudge thinks that Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's only a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."

I thought of the letter Ron had received and how his brother had said Dumbledore may not be in charge much longer. Were they planning a way to get rid of him right now? Or did they already have a plan that was just waiting to unfold?

They soon began talking about Hagrid, who had gone missing recently. Apparently someone named Maxime had been with him and we had no reason to be worried about him.

Soon, the conversation turned to a more serious matter as they discussed Sirius being recognized. They were afraid that Malfoy's dad had recognized him. I knew it was stupid and odd, but I felt a soft spot for Draco – the first person to show me any kindness here.

When I zoned back into the conversation, Sirius was telling Harry that he's not as much like his father as he thought. Then, on a sour note, Sirius's face was gone from the fire.

"Well," Ron said, "at least the Order's not worried about Hagrid."

As soon as the words left Ron's mouth, Hermione gave him a sharp look to prevent him from saying more. Her eyes darted in my direction. Clearly, whatever "The Order" was, she did _not_ want me to know about it.

"Huh," Ron asked a bit stupidly as he turned to look at me. Then, his face transformed into one of understanding. "Oh, I forgot."

I stood there, confused-none-the-less. When I became friends with the three of them, I didn't expect them to tell me _everything_, but clearly they thought I did.

"Listen," I started, "you three were friends _way_ before I came along, so obviously ya'll have your own secrets that I'm not a part of. So, whenever you need to talk about something like that just tell me and I'll leave instead of you three staring at me."

"But - " Harry started but I cut him off.

"It's okay, trust me – I understand," I said truthfully. I bent down and began to pick up my books and nail polish. When I stood back up I looked at my friends and they were still there… just staring at me. "So," I said tentatively, "I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight and I'll see you all in the morning." I turned around and began walking towards the girls' dormitories as they began talking.

"Her uncle was a spy and Dumbledore trusted her family. I think we can trust her," Harry said quietly.

"Yes, well, maybe we should ask Dumbledore what he thinks first," Hermione rationalized.

"What would he say? That he trusted her uncle and grandparents but not her? Come on, Hermione."

"I'm just saying, maybe we should get his opinion," she was still whispering.

I began to ascend the steps just at Harry said, "Taylor, wait."

I turned around. Hermione stood facing Harry with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. Ron was still sitting in the armchair and he looked content. Harry was standing in front of Ron and looking at me.

"Sit down, we have some stuff to tell you."

I was confused. So they _were_ telling me. Well, Ron and Harry were, because from the look on Hermione's face, she was not.

"Um, okay," I walked over to the couch and sat down on it and then placed my belongings in front of it. Hermione marched over to the other armchair and flopped down in it while Harry sat across from me on the couch.

Harry looked at me for a moment thinking.

"Where do you even start?" Ron said with a thoughtful tone.

Harry shrugged, "I guess our first year, with the stone." He turned to look at Ron for an answer and Ron nodded. Then he turned to look at Hermione, but she just glared back at him.

I know me and Hermione hadn't been friends long, but I thought that she had at least liked me. However, her behavior was confusing me. Ron and Harry were fine with telling me whatever their secret was it apparently seemed, but not her.

"Well," Harry said, turning back to face me, "during our first year…" and so began the tale of Harry's previous four years. They were twisted, dark, and far worse than anything my imagination could ever come up with.


	9. IX: Social Awkwardness

**So last minute before posting this chapter, I decided it wasn't right and completely rewrote it, deleting a scene and adding the last one (which I happen to really like so I'm glad I changed my mind). That is the reason this is being posted so late. I apologize immensely. **

**Thanks again to Cubaser for your continued support and reviewing!**

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER

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**Social Awkwardness**

_I was standing at the entrance of a large maze looking around. My surroundings were unfamiliar: I was in what appeared to be some sort of underground chamber. I heard something like a bird call and looked up. A red phoenix was flying towards me. I reached out, letting it land on my forearm and somewhat giggled at the fascinating sight. The bird was beautiful and the touch of it was warm and made my entire body swell with pride. Hearing footsteps coming from the other direction, I turned and saw Draco Malfoy walking towards me, smiling. As he got closer, I quickly took my wand out of my pocket and pointed it at the bird. Draco did the same, and just as he was muttering some indecipherable curse, the bird took off into the maze. Draco immediately began to run after it and I followed. We ran through the maze, twist after winding twist. Finally, the maze walls opened up into a large, open circle and in the middle the phoenix had perched itself of the forearm of an elderly woman… my grandmother. I stopped dead in my tracks and lowered my wand. Draco slowed his pace, but kept going with his wand up. I was about to tell Draco to stop, that she was of no harm, but I looked at my grandma first and she – she winked at me. Suddenly, she spun on the spot and apparated, the bird disappearing with her. Draco cursed under his breath and turned toward me. He passed me wordlessly and began walking through the maze again._

I rolled over in my bed and looked around. The room was filled with light from the rising sun, it was probably right around time to get up for breakfast, but I remained in bed. I rolled onto my back and kicked off my blankets. My dream had caused me to break out into a sweat. _Probably because she was in it_.

Since her death, my grandma had appeared in my dreams many times. At first, this often caused me to wake up screaming and sobbing and shortly after my mother would run in but there was never anything she could do to console me. After awhile, she had stopped coming in and, eventually, I had stopped screaming and would, instead, just cry or break out into a sweat as I had just done.

I sat up with the images of the dream still running through my mind. It didn't make sense, not any of it. Looking around the room I saw that everyone was still sleeping, so maybe it was earlier than I originally thought.

I got out of bed and changed. When I was finished getting ready, the other girls were just beginning to wake up. In order to avoid the questions as to why I was up so early, I went down to the Common Room to wait for Hermione or the boys to get ready.

After about ten minutes of sitting in an old armchair that Ron frequented, Hermione descended the stairs. "I was wondering where you went."

"Oh," I said, "I got ready fast so I just figured I'd wait down here."

We left the Common Room and began walking to the Great Hall. "So," I said, trying to break the silence. After all, I still wasn't sure how Hermione felt about me, especially since she refused to help Harry and Ron last night in filling me in. "What do you think it was Percy was talking about in the Prophet?"

Hermione shrugged, "I honestly have no clue. But it's probably something ridiculously stupid if the Ministry has anything to do with it."

I agreed and we finished the rest of the walk in an awkward silence. Once we reached the Great Hall and then the Gryffindor table, we sat down facing each other and I found myself looking not only at Hermione, but the Slytherin table as well. I was, once again, flooded with thoughts about my dream. For some reason, I couldn't seem to let go of it like a normal dream. It seemed as though I was trying to tell myself something subconsiously.

I was brought out of my reverie by Harry sitting next to me. "Mail come yet?"

"No," I answered disappointedly, we were all eager to read about whatever Percy could have been referring to. I buttered a piece of toast and once I had taken a couple of bites, the mail came. Hermione anxiously scrambled to grab Ron's Prophet and nearly knocked over her glass of milk. Composing herself, she read the headline: **"Ministry Seeks Educational Reform. Dolores Umbridge Appointed First-Ever 'HIGH INQUISITOR'."**

"I'm confused," I said, swallowing a bite of toast. What did _that_ mean?

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "what's a _'high inquisitor'?"_

Hermione read the article aloud as I continued to nibble on my toast. Apparently Umbridge was the Ministry's way of keeping an eye on Hogwarts.

"That's ridiculous!" Harry said, "And now she has the power to inspect other teachers!"

I looked across the table at Hermione who looked grim, and then at Ron, but Ron was… _grinning_.

"What is funny about _anything _Hermione just read?" I asked mystified.

Ron then expressed his excitement at seeing McGonagall inspected. I rolled my eyes playfully and quickly finished my toast so I wouldn't be late for first period.

I found classes extremely boring in the morning, but was pleasantly surprised to get my Potions essay back with an 'E' on it. At first I didn't know what it meant, but after asking Ron, I was thoroughly pleased. He showed me his 'P' with a frown and I wanted to ask what it stood for, but because of the look on his face, I decided not to.

After Potions, I walked to the Great Hall with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Because Snape had talked about the O.W.L.s, that was all Hermione seemed capable to think about. The entire walk she rambled on and on about marks.

I found it hard, however, to stay tuned in to the conversation. A certain scene from my dream kept replaying in my head: watching Draco go after my grandma and then her winking at me with the phoenix on her arm, as if we shared some secret that Draco was not in on.

I sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Ron and continued thinking over my dream. I was replaying the wink once more just as I heard my name. "Huh?" I asked.

Hermione was looking across the table at me with a look of astonishment on her face. "You got an '_E_' on your essay?" she asked incredulously.

"Uh, yeah… probably just a fluke," I said, trying to reassure her of her status as the "smart one". I did, however, wonder what she got.

"I got a 'P'," Ron said grimly.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," I looked to my right and saw Fred, George, and their friend Lee sitting down. "Right, America?" Fred said elbowing me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Fred had taken to teasing me about anything and everything – namely my nationality. "Please don't tell me that's my new nickname," I said.

Fred smiled, "Don't worry, I'll come up with something cuter." He said the last word with a wrinkle of his nose. I turned forward and found that Hermione was still going on about O.W.L.s. As we ate, Fred took it upon himself to explain to us what the different marks were that you could receive and that his Charms class was inspected by Umbridge.

I stood from the table with everyone else as they were insulting Umbridge. I wasn't sure what it was about the woman, but just thinking of her sent a tremor through my body.

"Well," I said grabbing my books, "maybe we'll get lucky and she won't inspect any of our classes." I hoped with all of my heart that this was true. She never did anything to me, but I hated being around her and watching her treat certain people the way she did.

"Scared of her, are you?" I looked up at Fred. Well, there was one thing I loved about the Weasley boys – I had to look up to them. Back home, if I wasn't the same height as the boys, then they were shorter than me.

"She's not exactly my favorite person, but I wouldn't say _scared_," I said looking up into his blue eyes, lying just a _little_ bit.

"Well don't you worry your little American head about her," he rested his hand gently on the top of my head, "I think she's only interested in ripping apart the professors today."

"Yea, _today_," I said quietly, but apparently he still heard me.

He shook my head from side to side with his hand. "Eh, the worst she could do is send you back to America." I looked at him gravely, not doubting for a moment that what he said was true. Fred dropped his hand and looked at me seriously, "I'm only joking."

"I knew that," I snapped back defensively, once again lying just a little bit. I turned around and realized that Hermione had already left for Ancient Runes. I left the Great Hall by myself trying to figure her out. We normally always walked to Ancient Runes together since neither Ron nor Harry took the class, so this was odd. Sure, it was no secret that I was closest to Harry, but I still considered myself close to Hermione. Just the way she acted towards me sometimes really confused me. Was it possible that she was still upset that Ron and Harry had told me about the Order, and Sirius, and everything that had been planted into my head last night? Certainly not, the boys didn't have a problem with me knowing any of it.

I was already on the third floor when I realized something was wrong. Did I usually pass that painting on the way to Ancient Runes? I couldn't be entirely sure because I usually followed Hermione's lead, which I now knew was a mistake. I should have been paying attention on how to actually get to the class. Between the moving stairs and the walking suits of armor, I didn't know my way around the castle very well, and it probably didn't help that I turned down that tour with the first years.

_Turn right_. Somewhere along the way I remember that we turned right. But, of course, there was no right turn on this corridor. _Maybe I'm backwards_. I turned around and let my books droop some in my hands. We needed so many for this class and they weren't exactly light, and it probably didn't help that I had been walking around with them much longer than necessary.

I reached the end of the corridor and decided to go back in the direction I came from. However, just before I made the turn around the corner, my drooping books fell from my hands. I stood there and stared at them a moment, of course_ I_ would drop my books. I could hear chuckling and turned to see that it was a man in a painting. After giving him a dirty look he turned and went walking down the hallway in the opposite direction through the paintings. _Maybe if you hadn't of been rude, he would have helped you find the classroom_, I scolded myself as I squatted to pick up the four books.

I was reaching to retrieve the last one when I heard footsteps. Hurriedly, I grabbed the book and attempted to stand so that whoever they were wouldn't fall over me, but in the middle of this the footsteps rounded the corner and I felt a hand pressing down on my head so that its owner could steady him or herself. The pressure of the hand on my head made me unbalanced and I toppled over with my books once again falling out of my hands, the owner of the hand falling on top of me.

"_I am so sorry!_" I apologized as whoever had been unlucky enough to topple over me transferred their body weight so that it wasn't on my lower half. I made a move to put my body into a kneeling position so my butt wasn't on the floor and looked over at the person who was, almost as clumsily as me, trying to make sure they were completely off of me.

"It's fine, are you all right?" the owner of the voice looked up at me as he asked and I recognized him immediately: Draco Malfoy. He looked me over as if trying to make sure he didn't squash me and then also pulled himself up into a kneeling position.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," I stammered. The dream that I had had the previous night now came at me full force. Draco running through a maze after the phoenix, pointing a wand at my grandmother… "I'm so sorry," I said again, furrowing my brow. "My books fell out of my hands and I bent down to get them and, well…" I awkwardly trailed off.

Draco continued looking at me and smirked. "It's really quite all right," after he said this he looked around, "In your defense, you were carrying a lot of books." I looked on the floor and, of course, my Ancient Runes books were scattered about. Draco picked one up and I went to reach for another just as he had, our hands bumping together. "Sorry," he mumbled as he pulled his hand back. I inwardly cursed myself for my social awkwardness. I gathered my remaining books and just as a grabbed the last one a hand appeared in front of my face. Taking Draco's hand he helped me up.

"Ancient Runes, huh?" he said, giving the book that he was still holding a shake. "You're a little out of the way then, aren't you?"

"Um, I actually wouldn't know. I'm sort of lost," I said embarrassed.

Once again, he smirked at me. "Well, luckily I know where it is," Draco began walking down the corridor and I immediately followed, falling into step next to him. "I think I sort of met you on the train," he began. I was shocked that he remembered that and I guess I let the shock show on my face because he added, "Your accent isn't hard to forget. It's not every day you help an American girl with her luggage."

I could feel myself blushing, "Thanks for that, by the way."

Draco shrugged. "I'm Draco," he said as he put out his hand.

"Yeah, I know…" I started as he accidentally talked over me, "Taylor, right?" I nodded taking his hand. "You know my name?" he asked curiously.

I smiled. "Well, I guess it's no secret that you're not popular amongst Gryffindors, but talked about," I said airily.

He nodded, "No, that's definitely _not_ a secret." We walked for a few seconds in silence as we made a left turn. "So, you're friends with Potter?" he asked, looking down at me.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I wasn't sure what to say. _Yes_ was the answer, but instead I nodded.

Draco seemed to take this in. "Watch out, I'm not so sure about him," as he said this his face was serious.

My immediate reaction was to take up for Harry, but as I opened my mouth to do so, I thought twice. Instead of sounding like he was trying to put down Harry, Draco actually sounded like he was warning me. "Thanks," I started, "but I think I've got that worked out." He nodded and looked forward.

"I really don't know how you got this lost on the way to Runes," he said with a chuckle as we made a right turn.

"I never got a tour!" I defended myself, also beginning to laugh, "And on top of that, these hallways are huge and the armor walk and the staircases move and those are never good things when you're a person that just easily gets lost."

While I had been saying that, Draco had been watching me. When I finished, he began laughing all over again.

I couldn't help but laugh with him. His laugh was infectious. "Don't laugh at me!"

He roared with laughter once again, "Then why are you laughing at yourself?" As he laughed, little lines formed around his mouth and eyes and I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of his face.

"Ugh," I pretended to be frustrated as his laughter dismissed some.

"I'm sorry," he said between the remaining giggles.

"As you should be," I said in a mock-serious manner, still focused on his face.

"No," he said, laughter gone now, "I'm sorry that you're going to be late your class. But we are finally here." Draco came to a stop in front of a door.

I looked at the door, willing it to disappear. I was having fun despite what Ron, Harry, Hermione, and everyone else said about Draco. He was kind to me, and funny, and I didn't really want him to have to leave. "Thanks, again," I said.

He held out my book that I forgot he had been carrying, "You know, after the luggage, and helping you with your books, and showing you to class, I think you owe me."

"Do I?" I said, taking my book from his hand and adding it to the other three cradled in my arm, "And what exactly do I owe you?"

Draco shrugged, that adorable smirk on his face. "I'm sure you'll figure something out," he stepped out of the way so that I could open the door to Runes, "See ya." He turned and walked off as I managed a "See ya" in return, but, like the 'bye' on the train, I'm sure it was inaudible.


	10. X: Secrets, Secrets, Secrets

**I'm SO sorry for lying to some of you about when this was going to be posted! On top of losing my notebook that had the first half of the chapter in it and only finding it last week and also suffering from writer's block (which caused this chapter to SERIOUSLY suffer), I just couldn't update. Anyway, sorry for the wait!**

**And I would like to GREATLY THANK **_**rowellylovesgryffindor**_** for adding this story to alert and her favorites, as well as reviewing and putting me on author alert – you're awesome! Also, thanks again to **_**Cubaser**_** for reviewing! And also, thank you **_**Rainbowstarz**_**, my first fan of this story is back, which makes me SUPER happy! You are all great (:**

Disclaimer: Sadly, Harry and his world are not mine.

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**Secrets, Secrets, Secrets**

"I can't believe you were that late," Hermione was saying as we walked out of Runes and to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I shrugged. "I just got turned around," I said thinking about the time I had spent with Draco. All through class Hermione hadn't looked at me except for when I initially walked in. For my tardiness I was given, thankfully, only one detention. We finished the walk to Defense Against the Dark Arts in silence. Once Hermione and I got there, I took my seat next Ron as he quietly told us about his and Harry's Divination class that Umbridge had inspected.

_Divination…_ My mind wondered back to my dream, _maybe I should be in Divination, and then I'd be able to figure out what it meant._

By the end of class, Harry had gained another week's worth of detention – which was sure to lead to farther scarring on his hand. The day went on with Umbridge sitting in on Transfiguration – where McGonagall did not act as a push-over in the least – and in Care of Magical Creatures – in which Harry got another night of detention.

After dinner, Ron, Hermione, and I walked back to the Common Room and immediately began working on our immense amount of homework. Harry had gone off to detention so it was just us three. Hermione was still acting curt towards me, and I wasn't sure what to take of it. Up until last night, we had been getting along just fine. But now, it was as if she didn't approve of something I did. It wasn't as if I was going to go off and shout to the world about the Order of the Phoenix.

I looked up at the two from the spot on the couch I was occupying. Hermione was working on our essay for Arithmancy and Ron seemed to be working on our Potions assignment. I looked out the window and could see the sky. The sun was still out, but it wouldn't be for long.

I reached over and grabbed my bag, and starting to slowly put the books I had out into it.

"What are you doing?" the fact that it was Hermione's voice shocked me.

"I'm going to head out for a little bit," I said, putting the last piece of parchment away. Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron also looked at me curiously. "I'll be back in a little while."

I grabbed my bag as I stood from the couch and promptly left the Common Room. Before I knew it, I was outside the castle, walking towards the lake. I thought back to the evening when I had stood by the lake, wondering about why I, an American, had been invited to attend Hogwarts. The very same evening I had found out about my family history and Harry's history as well.

I saw a tree a short distance away and began walking towards it. I wasn't sure what I planned on doing, but time alone was something I was craving. Back home, I always had plenty of time to myself – I was an only child after all. But here at Hogwarts, alone time was hard to come by.

I set my bag down on the grass and then sat down next to it, leaning against the tree. I looked out over the lake. The scene was very similar to that of yesterday – the sky boasting with color. Had that really just been yesterday?

Without being consciously aware of my movements, I reached into my bag, this time knowing I had my sketchbook. I flipped it open to the first blank page, grabbed my pencils, and began to sketch the lake and the surrounding trees. I didn't have oils or prisma colors with me, so I drew the sunset in black and white the best I could.

After about 20 minutes, I was completely finished with it. Taking a deep breath and satisfied with my work, I leaned my head back against the trunk and closed my eyes. In the past day I had learned things that drastically changed me. I knew I needed to write my mom a letter, but what exactly would I tell her? She had a brother that had died in a war because he was a spy. How could she hide that for so many years?

Secrets, secrets, secrets. So many of them! The Order of the Phoenix was a secret organization that was being kept from me until Harry had decided to tell. This didn't bother me, I had just moved here and didn't expect to be on the inside loop of everything. But the fact that my family's history was kept a secret from me as easily as a secret organization in a separate country was hurtful. Why? Did they think I couldn't handle it?

"That's really good," My eyes shot open as a heard a voice. I looked up and saw the familiar profile of a blonde boy. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

I blushed slightly, "No, surprised me." I squinted while looking up at him. The setting sun framed him and it appeared as if he were glowing.

Draco stared at me a moment, his eyebrows tightly drawn together. "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," I said quietly. He sat down against the tree next to me, leaving a gap between us. I suddenly became very self-conscious and threw a hand over my newest sketch.

Having seen the quick action, Draco's eyes rested on my hand and the sketchpad. "That's really good by the way," he said with a small nod of the head. I blushed again. "Do you draw a lot?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I began, "Not as much as I used to anymore, though. There's just no time."

Draco nodded. "Hogwarts makes you very busy," he said with the slightest chuckle. "So did you find the way to the rest of your classes today?"

My cheeks grew even redder. "Yes, I did, actually."

"Good, I was worried that you ended up wandering the halls with no one to show you around," he smiled at me and I rolled my eyes.

I looked at him as his eyes once again rested on my sketchpad. His face was young but he never gave the expressions of a young person. Anyone could tell he came from money, and anyone could tell that he was well-educated not only in school, but in the world as well.

"Can I see it?" he asked and I looked away from his face to see that he was referring to my sketchpad.

"Um…" I began. My sketches were mostly private things. There were a few that I had shown people – my friends or my family – but most I just kept to myself.

"I mean you don't have to let me if you don't want to, I was just curious," he added quickly. "All of the art I've ever seen has been done by enchanted pencils and paintbrushes, I was curious if it made a difference."

When he said this, I thought back to last night when I was painting my toenails and Ron asked why I didn't enchant the brush. "Oh," I held out the sketchpad slightly, "I don't think there's a difference at all."

Draco took the pad carefully and completely unaware that he was holding my diary, the very thing I sometimes poured my soul into. Resting it in his lap, he studied the landscape I had just drawn. I looked up to his face for a reaction, but it remained motionless. That was something I had noticed a lot about Draco in class – he hardly showed any mundane emotion. If he was extremely happy he smiled, and you could always tell when he was upset. But if he was only barely amused, you were lucky to catch a smirk from him.

"Can I see some others?" he asked looking up from the page, the same emotionless look on his face.

I bit my lower lip tentatively, "Sure." I reached over to his lap and flipped the book to the front. It wasn't as if he would understand any of it anyways.

I watched as Draco opened to the first page. It was a simple drawing of a tulip in a field of grass. Very simple, yet one of my favorites, and to my surprise, Draco actually smiled a little at it. He flipped through the next few drawings of sun rises and stereos with the same smile. Finally, he reached the one of a boy. I couldn't help but notice that his smile faltered a little. "Who is this?" he asked curiously.

I looked down at the familiar squinty, brown eyes, tousled dark hair, and small lips stretched across his face in a huge, laughing grin. "That's Deacon, he's one of my best friends back home," I explained. I remembered the very day I drew that picture. Deacon, Lauren and I had gone to the library to study. Deacon, as always, was goofing around and something about the lighting in the library made him look cherubic. He had actually asked if I would draw him, so I did. Right there in the library.

Draco nodded and once again flipped the page. After a few more drawings I knew exactly what was coming. "So what were you doing out here?" I asked quickly, hoping to distract him. When I had given him the sketchpad, I knew he would see them, but now I was regretting it.

Draco looked up from the pad. "I like walking in the grounds sometimes, to think. And I saw you so I figured I'd come say hello," he explained.

I nodded and sighed heavily, my heartbeat speeding up at the thought of him flipping the page. "What were you thinking about?" I asked nervously.

He drew his eyebrows together. "Family stuff, mostly," was all he said and then he looked back down at the sketchpad.

"I know this is going to sound stupid, but there are some sketches in there that I haven't shown anyone and I really don't want you to see," I shut my eyes tightly, half afraid of his reaction. When there was only silence, I opened them slowly to find that he was looking at me with a curious look on his face.

"Okay," he shut the pad and handed it back to me. In the semi-darkness, I took it from him and put it back in my bag.

"Sorry," I mumbled, feeling like a class A idiot.

"Don't be sorry, it's personal stuff I presume," he said, still looking at me. Most people don't look the person they are talking to directly in the eyes, but Draco wasn't one of those people. Although, at times like this, I wished he was.

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. "Well," Draco began, "it's getting late and we both need to be getting back to our Common Rooms." I watched as he stood up and knew he was right. I grabbed my bag and before I could begin standing, his hand was in front of me to help me up. I reluctantly took it; I wasn't used to that sort of thing.

Draco smiled at me, "It was nice chatting with you." I couldn't help but smile back. It was sort of infectious. He turned to begin walking off but stopped, "And, maybe one day I'll get to see those sketches?"

I smiled wider. "One day," I agreed and then watched him walk off for the second time in a day. On my walk back to the Common Room, I reviewed my past two encounters with Draco. What was it about him that made me such a spaz? What was it about him that made me so _nervous_? When walked back into the Gryffindor Common Room, about a dozen people were scattered about – talking, doing homework, and even sleeping.

I walked over to a small group of people. "Well look who's decided to join us again!" Ron boasted.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"No need," he said, his eyes returning to his parchment. I sat down on the couch with Hermione and Ginny. "Where's Harry?" I asked.

"Bed," Hermione answered without taking her eyes off of her book, "He went straight there when he got back from detention. I think he just wanted to be alone for awhile."

I nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. I pulled a couple of books out of my bag and continued an essay where I had left it off earlier. Before long, Ron and Ginny had already retired to bed, leaving Hermione and I alone in the Common Room except for a couple of third year girls studying together in the corner.

We were both silent, she was reading ahead while I was doing the homework I should have been doing earlier. Hermione coughed quietly and then surprised me by asking, "Where did you go?"

"Oh," I was a little shocked that she had spoken to me, "just to the lake, to think."

Hermione nodded as if understanding and then began to read again.

"Hermione," I spoke again while looking at her, "why don't you like me?"

Hermione looked up startled. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, lately you've just been so curt to me… and then last night…" I trailed off.

Hermione closed the book that was in her lap and leaned forward. "It's nothing to do with you, I swear. It's just… After everything Harry has been through, I couldn't believe he would through such great risks and trust you like that. I never meant for you to think I didn't like you."

I nodded slowly. "Well," I said with a small smile, "that's good to know." She smiled back. "But don't worry, you can trust me. I don't take anything Harry has told me lightly."

"Alright," she said, leaning back and once again opening her book. I watched as she began to read once again. While she read, her brows drew together and reminded me of… Draco. His eyebrows did that when he looked at me sometimes.

"Hermione, I have another question," I began, knowing I was on thin ice with this one. She looked up at me as a signal to continue. "What is your opinion on Draco Malfoy?"

Her eyebrows shot up immediately. "Draco Malfoy? You know my opinion on him if you've paid any attention at all to most of what comes out of Ronald's mouth," she said, "Why?" She stared at me as if trying to read my face.

"Well, today when I was lost in the hallway, I came across him and he showed me to class. And then, just now by the lake, he stopped and talked with me. He just seems very different than the way ya'll describe him. I mean, I've seen the way he's acted towards Harry, but it was just so different." The look on Hermione's face was enough to make me feel ashamed.

"Draco Malfoy is _disgusting_, Taylor. Always has been and will be. He knows no decency," she said firmly.

"But he _was_ decent," I said defensively.

"And you're a pretty girl, Taylor, and you're from America. You're basically exotic to most of the people here," she said flippantly, as if that was supposed to explain everything, but it most certainly did not. At the confused look on my face, she sighed and continued. "So he's enamored. Everyone is. Haven't you heard them? Everyone wants to know why you're here, and I'm sure he's no different, Taylor. I don't want to be rude but I know Draco Malfoy and he probably just sees you as another conquest. _Please_, don't let yourself become that," she begged.

I stared at her for a moment. _Enamored? Conquest? Me?_ Surely she didn't understand. I was seeing a different side of Draco, I had to be. He was kind, and funny, and… and what else? I didn't know him and she did, so why shouldn't I believe her? But, why _couldn't _I believe her? "Thanks, Hermione," I said sincerely. _Could _I believe her?


	11. XI: Paranoia Sets In

**Well, look who decided to upload a new chapter and continue on with their HP fanfic? ME! It's been over a year, but I think about this story ALL THE FLIPPING TIME. I have the next few chapters written… So enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not, DO NOT, own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it.

**Paranoia Sets In **

The next day at breakfast, I sat next to Fred and Harry while Hermione and Ron sat across from me bickering.

"Another week's worth?" Fred asked incredulously after Harry informed every one of his new detentions. I shook my head, before the year was over, Harry would surely have permanent scars. Unlike so many other students, he had a temper that he unleashed on Umbridge. I picked at my pancakes, not really hungry. Something else was on my mind as well – Draco Malfoy.

Hermione had called him _disgusting_. And maybe he was. But maybe he really wasn't. He was nice to me, but according to Hermione, Draco just saw me as a "conquest" – another girl to add to his list. Hermione had also shared some other disturbing news: people were enamored by me. I wasn't used to that. I didn't think of myself as ugly, I had gotten attention from boys before, but I had never been flirty like my friend Lauren. Where-as Lauren knew the male anatomy well, I had yet to even kiss more than two – and one of them was when I was eleven.

"Hey hey," as I heard these words, a finger poked my cheek. I looked up at the red-head sitting next to me with my eyebrows raised. "What's up with you?" Fred asked, his normal tone of comedy gone.

"Uh," I said, looking away from him and down at his plate that he had already devoured, "nothing."

"Hm," I wasn't looking at him, but I could imagine the thoughtful look on his face that he always had when he was thinking of the next funny thing to say, "how about you try actually saying that like you believe it, and maybe looking me in the face as well."

I looked away from the plate slowly and sheepishly raised my eyes to look at his face. "I've just got a lot on my mind," I said honestly.

Fred looked at me, and I was shocked when no joke came from his lips or a smile wasn't cracked. "Okay," he said calmly and went back to eating his hash browns. I looked back down at my plate, no interest left in pretending to eat. I stood up and said that I was going to run by the Common Room quickly and I'd see Harry, Ron, and Hermione in class. Leaving the Great Hall, the sounds of hundreds of laughing, happy voices filled my head, and I wondered just how many pairs of eyes were watching me leave.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I was aware of Umbridge's watchful eye in a couple of my classes and engaging in small conversation with Hermione, but that was all. Mostly, all I could think about was the way others must see me. _A mystery_. _Why was an American attending an English school?_ Was it really like Hermione had said it? Surely not. Surely no one looked at me, wanting me only because I was _exotic_. But the seed was planted. Who exactly thought of me this way? Which of my "friends" only cared about knowing my story or being the first to get the info on the new girl? I had never been cynical or paranoid, never jumped to conclusions about the way people were looking at me. In my life I was never in the spotlight, so it was odd to think that I could possibly be on people's minds.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts a couple of days later, I sat in the library with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. As I was writing an essay for History of Magic, Hermione was expressing her utter frustration with the class we had just left.

"Umbridge is insufferable, I cannot stand the woman. We aren't learning a thing! When we actually need to defend ourselves, we won't know how," she said exasperated.

"Humph," I grunted as I looked up from my parchment, "at least you've had _some _form of instruction in the past. My grandma didn't teach Defense much at all." I did, however, have excellent training in Potions.

"True," Hermione said quietly. "You know," I could hear in her voice that she was getting excited again, "Harry, _you_ could teach us defense against the dark arts!"

"What?" Ron asked confused, "He can't exactly just take over the class from Umbridge."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously. But he can teach us outside of class. We will have to know how to defend ourselves eventually. And honestly, who could possibly be a better teacher?"

I looked over at Harry for the first time. He was staring at Hermione with a look that I couldn't exactly read. "Hermione," Harry began, "I'm not a teacher."

Hermione huffed. "Harry - "

"No." Harry looked definite. Personally, I didn't think it was a bad idea, but Harry looked firm in his decision.

Knowing that I had to get my essays finished, I pushed the thought aside and looked back at my parchment. This one seemed complete, now time to retrieve my Ancient Runes work and finish it. After putting the essay in my bag, I looked for my Runes work. _Ugh_, I though inwardly as I remembered leaving it on my bunk after class.

I looked up at my three friends who seemed to have returned to their work. Ron seemed like he was struggling, Harry was blankly staring at a book – probably thinking about something else, and Hermione seemed frustrated as she worked. "I left some of my work on my bed, I'll be back later," I said as I stood up.

"Don't forget that Runes is due tomorrow," Hermione reminded me in a robotic voice. I think she sometimes forgot that I wasn't Harry or Ron and treated me the same when it came to things like schoolwork.

"Thanks," I said, not correcting her that I knew when my work was due. I left the library with my bag slung over my shoulder. As I was walking across the castle, something caught my attention – a blonde boy walking towards the Clock Tower. I stopped for a second; I could walk that way as well, talk to him. _No_. I continued on my way to the Gryffindor Common Room. I retrieved my books and left the Common Room to return to the library. However, my body started walking in a different direction. I was curious and I wanted to talk to him. After all, he had seemed interested in talking to me those other two times. I kept walking until I reached the tower.


	12. XII: Clock Towers & Stormy Eyes

**BIG thanks to Ravenclawsome2014 & Twilightgirl105 for favoriting this story, you are both epically awesome (:**

**& without further ado, here is chapter twelve! There's a lot of Draco/Taylor, so I hope you enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, spells, plot, scenes, settings, or anything else that was copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. Any similarities between anything in this fanfic & something that has happened to you, your great aunt twice removed, or another fanfic is completely coincidental.

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**Clock Towers & Stormy Eyes**

I had already ascended the stairs when I realized that I didn't have a real reason to be here. _Turn around_, I thought,_ before he notices that someone else came in_. I started to rotate around when I heard a familiar voice say my name. "Is that you?"

I turned back around to look at the beautiful face look at me questioningly. I smiled, "Uh, yeah."

"Where were you going?" Draco's eyebrows drew together as he motioned towards the stairs.

"I – uh," I had trouble, once again, finding words, "I didn't know that someone else was up here, and I didn't want to disturb you."

Draco's eyebrow raised and he smirked. I couldn't help but realize that he looked adorable that way.  
"Mhm, I bet you came looking for me," he said in a cocky tone.

"No!" I said defensively, but also lying.

"Relax," Draco said smoothly, "I'm only joking." I blushed a little, slightly feeling like an idiot for reacting the way I did. Draco leaned against the wall and crossed his arms while still looking at me, "Do you have somewhere you need to go?"

Looking at how naturally he leaned over and placed his body against the wall, I suddenly became very conscious of the way I was standing – one leg in front of the other from turning back around, one arm hanging limp at my side, the other fidgeting with the strap of my bag across my body – and I wondered how I must look to someone as confident as Draco Malfoy. "No, just killing time before class."

Draco nodded his head. "Mind staying for a moment then?" he asked, once again drawing his eyebrows together. However, this motion looked less thoughtful and more curious.

"Okay," I said, bringing my feet together and softly biting the inside of my lip. Draco smiled a little at me and smoothly lifted his body off of the wall. He walked over to the other side of the tower and sat down on a box that looked out of one of the windows. Unsure of what else to do, I decided to go with my instinct and followed Draco to the spot and sat down on the small box next to his. "So why did you want me to stay?" I asked a bit nervously, remembering what Hermione had told me.

Draco shrugged, "I wanted some company, I get tired of being alone sometimes." Draco looked down at me, "And I figured you would because, number one: you still owe me for showing you to class, and two: you clearly came here looking for me, didn't you?" He looked at me with a steady face. It wasn't so much a question, because he sounded – and looked – sure of it.

"On your first point," I began, shocked that I actually knew what I wanted to say for once, "No, I do not owe you anymore. I let you look at my sketches and we were even. Currently I'm doing you the favor of keeping you company, so now _you_ owe _me_. And on your second point," I hesitated slightly and looked away from him, "I did see you come up here. I wasn't exactly _looking _for you, but I wasn't exactly on my way to the Clock Tower, either." I looked back up to see a beautiful pair of stormy gray eyes staring at me. I was expecting him to be upset, revolted by the fact that I didn't just stumble upon him, but instead, I was shocked to see his mouth spread into a wide grin.

"I owe you now, huh?" he asked and then pressed his lips together to have a close-mouthed smile. He made a _humph_ noise and his body shook once as if he was amused.

"Technically," I raised my eyebrows, "yes. I didn't _have _to stay here."

Draco shook his head in what I hoped was amusement and looked away. "Alright then," he said. I watched as he pressed his lips together and turned his head back to face me. "Why did you want to come up here with me?" I realized that his smile was gone now and his eyebrow was raised. I wasn't sure of what to say because I wasn't sure of what my answer was.

"I don't know," I began, "I just wanted to talk to you again. And obviously that won't just happen in the hallways while leaving class." I hoped that my last sentence didn't sound rude.

Draco nodded, "True." I watched his face as he watched me. He looked calm and placid. "Well, I'm glad you did, because I was hoping I would get to talk to you again as well," he finished with a smirk.

I couldn't help but grin slightly and hope that my face wasn't blushing. I looked away just in case, not wanting Draco to see. Even though I was now looking at the floor, I could still feel his gaze on me. "So," I began, "if you get tired of being alone, then why do you seclude yourself in the Clock Tower?"

Draco sighed. I looked up to see that his face was almost in a sneer, "Fun fact: I am easily annoyed. Unfortunately, a lot of people know how to annoy me." His sneer fell. "My turn."

"You're turn for what?" I asked.

"To ask a question. You're not the only one who's curious," Draco said. I wanted to correct him and say that he had, in fact, been asking a lot of questions, but decided against it. In my mind, this was it. Was Hermione right? Would he ask why I was at Hogwarts? Why was I the only American invited to attend? He looked forward as if contemplating what exactly he would ask. "Did you go to The Salem Institute before Hogwarts?"

Once again, his light gray eyes fell on me awaiting my answer. I was a little taken aback. I had been expecting a question about my past – why I was here or who exactly I was – that would confirm my fears that Hermione had planted. But this question, at least in my mind, was different. _Or perhaps_, I thought a little gravely, _I just _want_ it to be different._

I pushed that thought aside, reassuring myself that yes, this question _was _different. Answering the question, I shook my head, "Nope. When I was eleven I received a letter inviting me to attend, along with Hogwarts, but my mom wouldn't let me. Instead, I was homeschooled by my grandmother." I was proud of myself; I could now say _grandmother_ without frowning, hesitating, or turning pale.

Draco's face fell a little as he pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry," he managed to get out, and then pressed them again.

I was confused, and I could feel my eyebrows draw together, sorry? What for? After I told people my grandmother had die- passed away – I still couldn't say the 'D' word – they said sorry. But I hadn't told him that part yet. I suppose he could see that I was confused and taken aback by his statement because he spoke again. "I can just tell by the way you spoke or looked or something. I'm sorry," he said again.

I could feel my mouth twitch and my eyes fell from his face. His apology sounded sincere, but it only made me realize that I wasn't as good at hiding my emotions when it came to my grandma as I had thought. "She passed away seven months ago," I explained as I focused my eyes on a spot on the floor, "She was from here, so as a favor to her, I was invited to attend Hogwarts this year."

"Is it hard?" Draco's voice was quiet. I glanced up at him, realizing that it was always easier for me to understand exactly what he was saying when I could see his facial expression. His eyebrows were drawn, his mouth in a straight line. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but if I knew him better, I might say it was a look of concern.

I nodded. No one had ever asked me how studying magic without her was, but no one ever bothered to ask if I was close to her, either. Draco hadn't asked, but apparently there was something about the way I talked or looked that gave it all away. "She was my best friend."

Draco's hand rested on top of mine for a small moment and my skin tingled. Draco was touching my hand. His skin was cold, but for some reason, I imagined that mine was burning. The gesture only lasted for a moment, and then he withdrew it quickly, as if he were unsure of his actions or just realized exactly what he was doing. I bit the inside of my lip once more. Draco turned away from me with his hands now together and resting on his knees. Draco had just asked me personal questions and I wasn't sure how it made me feel. Draco Malfoy, who – according to Ron – was the worst person at Hogwarts, now knew more about me than anyone at Hogwarts besides Harry. I gulped and realized that we had been silent for minutes and I didn't know if it was awkward for him. I looked at him, in the position he was sitting I saw more of the back of his head and just a bit of the side of his face. I stared at his blonde, shiny hair wishing I knew what he was thinking. Instinctively, I began fidgeting with the strap of my bag. Just as I was about to say something random about the clock to break the silence, Draco stood up. "Class should be starting soon," he looked down at me as I continued sitting on the box.

"Oh," I said. I had completely forgotten about those. I stood up and walked across the tower towards the stairs. I could hear Draco's footsteps behind me. I turned around, startled by just how close Draco was. "It - it was nice talking to you," I stammered out.

Draco smirked at me, the best type of smile he could possibly display. "You too, I genuinely hope we run into each other again," Draco began to walk around me and took the first few steps down the stairs before turning around, "You do know how to get to your next class, right?" Draco was smiling at me.

"Yes!" I replied indignantly. With that, I took heavy, exaggerated footsteps towards the stairs and around him to show that I knew where I was going. More importantly, though, I got in front of him because I didn't want to have to watch him walk away from me again. This time, he was going to see me leave.


End file.
